


Soluções

by Imherejustforklaine



Category: Glee
Genre: Other
Language: Português brasileiro
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:29:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 32
Words: 110,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imherejustforklaine/pseuds/Imherejustforklaine
Summary: A leitura é o suficiente
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Capítulo Um   
2021   
"Kurt, acho que deveríamos ter um bebê", Rachel disse uma manhã no café da manhã.   
Kurt conseguiu engolir o café antes que ele pudesse cuspir tudo sobre a mesa. "Agora?" ele perguntou, um pouco   
engasgado.   
"Você não acha que estamos prontos? Já conversamos sobre isso antes."   
"Sim, mas nunca a sério."   
"Bem, estou falando sério agora." Rachel continuou a espalhar calmamente sua geléia orgânica sobre a torrada enquanto Kurt a encarava   
como se ela tivesse enlouquecido. "E eu quero que você considere seriamente agora também, Kurt."   
A mente de Kurt tropeçou em si mesma enquanto ele debatia o que dizer em resposta. Ele finalmente decidiu: "Rachel,   
ainda somos muito jovens".  
\- Não, não estamos. Temos vinte e oito, Kurt, vinte e oito, e daqui a dois anos teremos trinta e,   
antes que percebamos, teremos quarenta ou quarenta e cinco e será. Será tarde demais. Você sabia que a fertilidade começa a   
diminuir aos trinta anos para as mulheres? Trinta. Estou quase lá.   
"Eu não sei, Rach ..."   
"Eu já fiz a pesquisa. Tudo o que você precisa fazer é fornecer o suco."   
"Por favor, pelo amor de Deus, não use esse termo."   
"Esperma, tudo bem. Eu preciso do seu esperma."   
Kurt ergueu as sobrancelhas, os olhos praticamente esbugalhados. "Eu não sou apenas uma   
fornecedora de bebês , aqui. Se vamos fazer isso, eu também estou criando esse garoto. Nós conversamos sobre isso, lembra?   
Tanto meu bebê quanto o seu."

Her eyes lit up. "So you’ll do it, then?"  
Kurt plunked his bagel down on his plate. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said around a mouthful. "Settle down,   
Nellie. I said no such thing."  
"Just think about it, okay? Please. Just consider it, for real this time." Rachel picked up her mug and   
pressed a kiss to Kurt’s temple as she walked past him to the kitchen for a refill.  
"Okay," Kurt grudgingly replied. "I’ll think about it."  
November 2011  
After Santana’s performance of "Constant Craving," the glee club filtered out for the afternoon. Blaine and   
Kurt were the last two members left in the choir room. Even Mr. Schue had gone with the jazz band kids,   
talking animatedly with them about the possibility of joining the club for Sectionals next week.  
Blaine stepped down from the second riser to where Kurt was still sitting, stuffing pages of Michael   
Jackson sheet music for the upcoming competition into his satchel. "I need to tell you something," Blaine   
said seriously.  
Kurt set his bag down on the floor and gave his full attention to his boyfriend. "Okay."  
"I’ve avoided telling you for so long, because no one knows, but all the talks we’ve been having in glee this   
week about being true to yourself really brought it to the forefront." Blaine twiddled his thumbs. "I don’t   
want it to be a secret anymore."  
Kurt grew more and more concerned as Blaine went on. He held his arms open, silently beckoning Blaine   
closer. Blaine looked around nervously, but Mr. Schue had closed the choir room door on his way out.   
They were alone. Blaine settled himself sideways on his boyfriend’s lap, and Kurt clasped his hands   
around his waist. "What is it?" he asked softly.  
"I told you not to give up hope about NYADA for a reason," Blaine said. "Because I’ve... been there." He   
started to tear up and couldn’t believe he was crying already. Kurt rubbed his back comfortingly,   
confusion and fear clouding his pretty eyes. Blaine took a deep breath, and forced himself to continue.   
"After Sadie Hawkins, before my parents and I found Dalton, I thought about it. You know. Ending it."

Kurt’s hand stilled on his back. "I almost went through with it. I had the gun, from my dad’s collection, in   
my hands, and everything."  
Blaine found it too difficult to go on through the thickness clogging his throat, but it didn’t matter. Kurt,   
eyes watery, fiercely tugged him even closer, until Blaine gave up and collapsed against his chest, hooking   
his chin over Kurt’s shoulder and twisting his hands in the soft material of his sweater. Kurt held him   
there almost painfully. "What made you stop? Why didn’t you do it?"  
Blaine sniffled into Kurt’s neck and took a minute to compose himself. "It sounds silly," he finally said, "but   
I thought about you. Well, not you, but I thought what if there was someone out there who could love me,   
and I could love, too. I would never find you if I... and thank goodness I didn’t. Because this is so much   
better than I pictured."  
Kurt reached up and took Blaine’s face in both his hands, pulling Blaine back to look him in the eyes. He   
stared at him for a moment, and it seemed like he wanted to say something, but instead, he kissed Blaine   
firmly, right there in the middle of the choir room. Blaine closed his eyes slowly, relief washing over him,   
causing a few stray tears to fall from his lashes. Pulling away, Kurt hastily brushed them off Blaine’s   
cheeks. "Don’t you ever leave me, Blaine," Kurt said, blinking back his own tears. "Don’t you ever leave   
me."  
"No, no," Blaine whispered, shaking his head.  
"I love you, so much. You know that, right?" Kurt searched his eyes, needing the confirmation.  
Blaine nodded. "I love you, too."  
"I know, sweetheart." Kurt smoothed a stray curl over Blaine’s ear. "I know." He pulled Blaine to himself   
again, holding him far more gently this time.  
"I’m never saying goodbye to you," Blaine murmured into his ear.  
2021  
Two days later, as soon as Kurt stepped inside the apartment, she cornered him. "Did you make up your   
mind yet?"

"Rachel, seriously, the keys aren’t even out of my hands yet. And it’s been a very long day, so-"  
She grabbed him by the arm and led him to the couch in the living room. "Just sit down, relax, here, let me   
take your satchel and your scarf, that’s it." Rachel pried the items from him as she talked in what Kurt   
assumed she thought was a soothing voice. "Now," she said, sitting primly on the chair opposite him,   
"what are your thoughts?"  
"My thoughts are that I’d like to have some dinner and collapse into bed."  
"Kurt."  
He sighed, knowing her no-nonsense tone too well. He wouldn’t get out of this conversation without   
giving her more attention than she deserved. "Rachel, sweetie, you’re my best friend," Kurt started. "And   
you know I would love to do this with you eventually. I just don’t know if this is the right time."  
Rachel pursed her lips. "I don’t see why not. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, years, and I’m   
ready. I know I am."  
"But I don’t know if I’m ready. This is a big decision, and I don’t think we should take it lightly. I mean, we   
both have pretty demanding jobs. Can we really commit to a kid? Are you going to take some time away   
from the theater, because I don’t think I can afford to take that much time off, and I know you’ve talked   
about how much you dislike day-cares."  
He looked up to see Rachel nodding vigorously. He wondered if she had been doing it the whole time he   
had been talking. "I’ll have to take at least a year. Maybe I can do some backstage stuff on the side, but   
nothing on the stage for a while."  
Kurt considered her for a minute. "You must really want this if you’re willing to give up your spotlight."  
"I told you, Kurt, I’ve got it all worked out. Now, I know things might change in the future, but right now,   
neither of us have any romantic prospects, and I don’t want to wait around forever for a potential father   
for my child. I tried the long-distance thing with Finn in college, and as we both know, that didn’t work   
out. There’s been no one serious since then- over five years. And you-"  
"I know, I haven’t had anyone serious since Blaine."

"I chose my career over love, Kurt. I always knew I would. But now I want more. I have so much love   
within me, and I’m ready to share it with a child."  
Kurt shook his head, still dubious. "Rachel..."  
"Don’t you want to be a father, Kurt? Don’t you want to raise this baby together?"  
He felt himself sinking into the cushions. "Yes, of course I do."  
"Then what are we waiting for?" Her dark eyes bore into him in that slightly maniacal way Kurt had come   
to both love and loathe over the years.  
He sighed. "I wanted to do this the traditional way- you know, meet a guy, fall in love, get married, adopt   
some poor starving baby from Africa, a la Madonna."  
"Let’s face it, Kurt- we’re not exactly the best romantic partners around. That might not ever happen, for   
either of us."  
"You wanted to do the gay Madonna thing, too?" He smirked at her.  
"Shut up," she replied, but smiled back.  
"How exactly do you propose we go about doing this, anyway? Do I even want to know?"  
She perched further on the edge of her chair and lifted her hands in what Kurt called "the preparatory   
speech position" in his head. He sunk even further into the couch, ready to settle in for what could be a   
very long time. "Okay, so here’s my plan," Rachel began. "I know that in-vitro fertilization would probably   
be the safest, most sanitary, and most reliable way for us to conceive a child. However, it’s quite expensive,   
and as well as we’re both doing in our respective careers, I think we need to budget wisely considering   
we’ll have eighteen years of expenses ahead of us."  
She paused for a breath, eyeing him excitedly. "I’m still with you," Kurt supplied dryly.  
"Good. So I think a better option for us would be home-based artificial insemination. It’s practically   
expense-free, as far as conception goes, and it’s the method my dads used to conceive me. So it would be anice way to pay homage to them."  
"If you say so," Kurt said, scrunching up his nose. "I thought you said your dads used a turkey baster."  
"Well, that’s essentially what this is. We would need a sterilized cup or bag, and you would deposit your   
sample in there-"  
"Oh God, Rachel, please spare me the details."  
She continued, smiling brightly, as if she hadn’t heard him. "And then I would need a sterile syringe, and I   
would take your sample and insert it-"  
"Okay, I get it."  
"And we’d have to wait thirty minutes- I’d have to lie down- to make sure it takes-"  
"Okay, okay!"  
"And we might have to try a few times if it doesn’t work on the first attempt."  
When he was sure Rachel had finished talking, Kurt chanced a glance at her. "Jeez," he said softly.  
She nodded again, still unfazed. "I talked to my dads about it."  
Kurt groaned. "Really, Rachel? Really?"  
"Well, we could always do it the traditional way if you’re opposed-"  
"Não. De jeito nenhum, Rachel. Não há como eu estar fazendo sexo com você. Não. Fora de questão. Não."   
"Apenas uma sugestão."   
Kurt colocou a cabeça nas mãos. "Vamos ficar com a coisa da inseminação. Se decidirmos fazer isso. Ok?"   
Ela se levantou, deu outro beijo na têmpora dele e disse: "Tudo bem. Pense nisso."


	2. Capítulo 2

2021

Kurt stood at the door to Rachel’s bedroom, ten to six in the morning after a restless night. He waited for   
her alarm to go off and listened to her get up and silence her alarm clock. Then he knocked on the door.

There was a pause, and then her feet shuffled over the floor and the door was cracked open to reveal a   
sleepy and befuddled Rachel. "Kurt, I literally just woke up. I have to start my daily early morning   
workout."

"I want to do it."

"I’m sorry, what?" She rubbed at her eyes.

"I want to have a baby with you. I want to go through with it. And be a dad, and raise a family with you. All of that. And I’m okay with doing it now."

Rachel’s face lit up. "Kurt, really?"

"Yeah. Really."

She launched herself at him, crushing him in a brutal hug. "I’m so excited! I’m going to start tracking my ovulation, and sign up for parenting classes, and oh, I have to call my dads and tell them we’ve decided to go for it!" She suddenly pulled away from him. "You’re sure?"

"I’m sure," Kurt said, patting Rachel on the back.  
"What changed your mind?"

He shrugged. "You’re right. I don’t know what’s in store for either of us, but we shouldn’t wait around for someone else to make our dream of becoming parents a reality. We could be waiting for the rest of our lives, in that case. But I know I want to do this- I would want to do it regardless. Last night, I just thought about it for a long time, and finally I figured, what are we waiting for? And I didn’t have a good enough answer for that. So, yeah. Let’s have a baby. I’m ready if you are."

Rachel squealed, grabbing his hands. "I can’t wait. I can’t wait! You’re going to make such a good father, I just know it."

"It hasn’t even sunk in yet. We’re really doing this."

"We really are. Okay, but I seriously have to get started on my morning routine. But I’m excited!"

Kurt chuckled. "So am I. I should probably try and get a couple hours of sleep before I have to leave for work."

"You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?"

"Not a wink."

April 2012

Kurt, Rachel, and Blaine all sat on Rachel’s bed, surrounded by an array of bright nail polish and makeup. Blaine had brought over his favorite Roxy Music album, and it spit out silky seventies melodies from Rachel’s desk as they giggled over each other’s pajamas and split a plate of vegan cookies. Somehow, Kurt had convinced Blaine to let him give him a make over after he had finished on Rachel, and he brushed glittery purple eyeshadow along his boyfriend’s brow line as Rachel colored Blaine’s nails a metallic gold.

"Aren’t we too old for this?" Blaine questioned, despite his current state.

"Please," Kurt replied. "Slumber parties and make overs are all-ages activities."

"Even for high school seniors?"

"Especially for high school seniors. And juniors, in your case."

Rachel laughed joyfully. "You know he would never let you do this if you were anyone else," she told Kurt, picking up Blaine’s hand to blow on his nails.

"True," Blaine confirmed. "I don’t allow myself to look a fool for just anyone. You should feel honored."

"I’ll have you know that I will make you look gorgeous, not silly," Kurt said, kissing Blaine’s nose.   
"Sabotage make overs are only used in rare circumstances, and certainly never against one’s boyfriend."

"Just be glad he’s not turning you into Sandy from Grease," Rachel added, nodding solemnly and patting the top of Blaine’s hand.

Kurt picked up a tube of pale peach lip gloss. "Final touch," he said, running it slowly over Blaine’s lips.   
"Voila! My beautiful Blaine."

Blaine looked up at him from under his mascara-coated lashes, eyes suddenly heated. "Yes," he whispered.   
"I’m yours."

"And I’m yours," Kurt whispered back, Rachel completely forgotten off to their sides. Her indignant   
squawk was ignored as Blaine lost it, tackling Kurt, the bottles of nail polish flying everywhere. He pinned Kurt to the bed and kissed him senseless, ruining his freshly-painted nails and smearing the lip gloss over   
both their faces.

2021

Kurt had everything he needed: a freshly boiled cup, a brand new bottle of lube, and an ovulating best friend. He could do without the last at the moment, however.

"Okay, I’ll just be across the hall in my room, waiting for your donation," Rachel said.

"Again, I am not a sperm bank. This is half of our child you’re talking about."

Ignoring his comment, she kept talking. "And you have your cup, right?" It was as if he was a toddler who   
couldn’t handle keeping track of more than one thing at a time.

"Yes, Rachel," he replied, gritting his teeth. "You can go now."

"I could suggest some music or magazines that might help the process?"

"Rachel. I’m one hundred percent sure I can handle this by myself." He started to push his bedroom door   
closed, effectively backing her out into the hallway.

"Okay. Okay. How long is it going to take? Just in case I need to come and check."

"Just go wait. Please." Rachel was slowly disappearing behind the door.

"Okay. When you’re done-"

"You’ll be waiting. Yes. I’m shutting the door now."

"Don’t forget-"

Kurt closed and locked his door.

Alone in his room, all necessary items lined up on top of his dresser, Kurt let the blinds down over his   
windows and half undressed. Picking up the cup and lube, he sat down on the edge of his bed, on top of   
the towel he had placed there in preparation. Methodically, he squeezed some lube onto his hand, spread   
his legs slightly, and began to pump himself, holding the cup below himself with his free hand.

A dozen pulls at his dick and nothing, no reaction whatsoever. He frowned, trying to concentrate on the   
sensations, rather than the thoughts running crazily through his head, but it was no use. Kurt willed   
himself to focus, to be in the right mind-set for making a baby, because jerking himself off properly had   
never been more important; it had never affected anyone but himself until now.

It was all too clinical, he realized, and his hand stilled. He was putting too much pressure on himself to   
perform, and the line of his vision was matching up perfectly with a family photo of himself, his father,   
stepmother, and stepbrother on top of his dresser, which really wasn’t helping to inspire him. This was   
something he did all the time; had been doing since he was a teenager. Hadn’t he just told Rachel he could   
handle it? If he just did it like he normally would, there wouldn’t be a problem.

Kurt pulled himself up the length of his bed until he was propped up against the pillows. He settled into   
them, closed his eyes, and started to touch himself, tracing his clean hand over his collarbone, dropping   
down to follow the curve of his hip, rucking up his shirt to tease at his ribs and nipples. He felt himself   
responding to it and let his legs fall open so that he could tickle his fingers feather-light over his inner   
thigh. A barely-there sigh escaped his lips, and Kurt felt his mind drifting.

It was no longer his hand. There was some gorgeous man with him, lavishing him, bathing him inluxurious touch, finding him irresistible, burning with want for him. No longer teasing, no longer testing   
the waters, but taking him whole. Broad shoulders, a toned chest, expanses of tightly rippled skin. Kurt   
was hard and leaking and breathing heavily, somewhere in the distance. More significant was the man   
worshiping his body. The hand with the perfect, long fingers. The defined arms, muscles working as that   
hand closed around him and steadily stroked.

Just as he approached the edge, sudden and startling, the vision became clear. Kurt was arching up into   
Blaine’s strong hand. He could see Blaine’s beautiful eyes, blown wide and black with lust, and could hear   
Blaine’s wrecked voice, panting out dirty words and broken moans in his ears. It was Blaine clawing at   
Kurt’s skin, pressing bruising kisses to his neck, drowning him in passion. It was Blaine’s fingers pressing   
in, dragging sweetly slow, then frantic with desperation.

Kurt came with Blaine’s name on his lips, a lonely whisper into the empty air of his bedroom.

***

When Rachel gave Kurt the okay, he stepped into her bedroom. She was lying in bed with her head   
propped up against the pillows, in almost an exact replication of the position Kurt had been in during his   
portion of the day’s baby-making activities. He climbed onto Rachel’s bed and stretched out beside her.   
"Well, no turning back now," he said, gazing at the ceiling, still a little dazed.

Rachel turned her head to look at him. "Having second thoughts already?"

"No, of course not," he said to the ceiling.

"Because I’m supposed to lie here for thirty minutes, but I could stand up and reduce our chances if you’re   
regretting this. You know, try and let them swim out."

"That’s disgusting, Rachel." He turned his head and met her eyes. "I’m fine."

She reached down and intertwined their fingers. "I know this isn’t the way you wanted to have a baby. I   
know you said you’d prefer to do this with someone you’re in love with."

He felt a slight twinge, some deep hidden part within him mourning what he didn’t have. "And I’m sure   
you would, too," he said to Rachel. "But I’m perfectly content with this decision. Are you?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation or uncertainty in her answer.

"Okay, then. Let’s allow them to swim to their destination."

She snorted, wiggling her fingers in his grip. "God, look at us. We’re such a married couple. Lying in bed   
together, holding hands."

"With our fifteen-minute-old fetus."

"Hey, no deal yet, buddy. Remember what I said? We might be doing this again in a couple months’ time if   
it doesn’t take."

"I hope they’re strong swimmers, in that case. I have to say I find this whole process a bit bizarre."

"At least you get to get off from it," Rachel replied. "Figures. Men always get the better deal."

Kurt smiled, but found himself contemplating the unexpected images of his ex-boyfriend that had shown   
up, uninvited, to the party. It had been a long time since he had thought about Blaine in that way. How   
long had it been since they split? Nearly five years, Kurt realized, suddenly feeling rather old. He didn’t   
know why, after five years, those thoughts had come back to him, and why so vividly, but they unnerved   
him, and left him with an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	3. capitulo 3

Capítulo três

2021

Blaine sonhava com um garoto bonito, com cabelos castanhos elegantes e melancólicos olhos azuis do oceano, e acordou com um estranho. Ele tocou o alarme e saiu da cama, a cabeça latejando com as batidas familiares de uma ressaca. Puxando o lençol do parceiro adormecido para se cobrir, Blaine sacudiu o homem bruscamente no ombro "Ei, você tem que ir", disse ele, quando o homem abriu os olhos.

"Ainda está escuro lá fora. Ainda não pode ser seis da manhã", o estranho murmurou, rolando, imperturbável por sua estou nu e debochado.

"Estou falando sério." Blaine pressionou a mão na testa, afastando a dor e o teimoso estranho. "EU tem que estar no trabalho em uma hora ".

O homem sentou-se, balançando um pouco, e procurou suas roupas. Blaine pegou seu jeans do chão e jogou-os para ele.

"Eu pensei que trabalhar no clube era seu trabalho", disse ele, grogue. "Eles não pagam por naquela? Porque foi um show e tanto. "

"Sim, eles me pagam." Blaine localizou a camiseta do homem, manchada de cerveja e suor, em um canto da sala e jogou isso para ele também.

"Se você começar tão cedo, quantas horas eles mantêm você?"

"Não é meu único trabalho, idiota", respondeu Blaine. "Estou fazendo paisagismo para alguns bastardos ricos em Jersey."

O homem se levantou, deixando os olhos permanecerem no peito nu de Blaine. "Aposto que você é melhor em foder", disse ele, "se ontem à noite foi algo a julgar. "

"Sim, bem, eu não sou pago para foder." Blaine abriu a porta do quarto e marchou para o corredor levando o homem até a porta da frente do apartamento. Santana, sentada no sofá, assistindo as notícias nela perfeitamente polido, levantou uma sobrancelha para o par enquanto eles seguiam pela sala de estar.

"Talvez possamos dar outra rodada em algum momento", disse o estranho quando chegaram à porta. "Posso ter seu número?"

"Você pode me encontrar no clube. Tenho certeza que você voltará."

"Oh eu vou." O homem entrou no corredor com um olhar sugestivo. Blaine fechou a porta atrás dele e amarrou o lençol em volta da cintura.

"Outra noite, Blaine?" Santana perguntou, olhando para ele. Ela usava uma expressão em algum lugar entre diversão e decepção. "Eu não sei o que você está procurando, mas você é não vai encontrar assim. "

"Eu não estou procurando nada além de uma boa foda", ele respondeu com nervosismo.

"E como ele estava?" Ela considerou as unhas, verificando se havia lascas no esmalte vermelho, mas Blaine sabia eles seriam impecáveis como sempre.

"Não é ruim."

"Mas também não é ótimo", disse ela conscientemente. Ela cruzou as mãos sobre o colo, aparentemente satisfeita com a manicure dela. "Olha, haverá pessoas lá fora para você. Mas, para ser honesto, você não encontrou qualquer um deles ainda. "

Ele olhou para a televisão, exibindo imagens de um incêndio de três alarmes no Bronx.

"E o Kurt?"

"Kurt está no passado. Bem no passado. "

"Blaine escute. Você diz que está procurando uma boa foda, mas eles sempre não terá sentido a menos que seja com alguém de quem você gosta. "

"O que você sabe?" ele resmungou, apertando ainda mais o lençol.

"Acredite em mim, eu sei. Eu perdi muito tempo na escola antes de perceber que era verdade. Quem é o melhor foda que você já teve? "

Ele hesitou antes de responder: "Kurt".

Santana abriu as mãos na frente dela, palmas para cima, como se dissesse, vêem? "Porque você se importava ele ", disse ela." Você estava apaixonado por ele. Sou advogado de defesa, Blaine; Eu posso fazer isso enquanto durmo. "

"Sim, bem, como você disse, isso é passado. Então não importa, importa. Agora, se você me der licença, eu tenho que prepare-se para o trabalho. ”Ele se virou e começou a caminhar propositadamente de volta para o quarto.

"Terceiro emprego novo este mês, Blaine", Santana chamou. "Não estrague tudo."

Agosto de 2012

"Eu vou sentir tanto a sua falta", Blaine respirou contra o pescoço de Kurt. Eles foram enrolados em torno de um contra contra o outro na cama de Blaine, todos procurando mãos e pernas emaranhadas e beijos gentis. "Nova York está muito longe'

Ele passou a mão pelas costas de Kurt, tentando memorizar os músculos quentes, a maneira como eles

mudou quando Kurt levantou a mão para brincar com os cabelos de Blaine. Rastreando, sentindo, para armazenar essas memórias

dentro dele até o outono, para segurá-los e mantê-los perto, até que ele pudesse ver Kurt

novamente em dezembro.

"Não acredito que vou embora amanhã", disse Kurt, com a voz baixa e quieta acima de Blaine.

"Todos os seus sonhos estão se tornando realidade, amor. Estou tão feliz por você." Blaine deu um beijo no mergulho de Kurt clavícula, abaixo do pescoço.

Kurt apertou seu aperto, ficando um pouco tenso.

"Você está bem?" Blaine perguntou, levantando a cabeça para encontrar os olhos de Kurt.

Kurt assentiu, um pouco rígido. "Você sabe que eu te amo, certo?"

"Claro que eu faço." Kurt parecia tão preocupado que Blaine não pôde deixar de tentar afastar sua incerteza. "EU também te amo ", ele murmurou, com os olhos fechados, enquanto se separavam, pairando a poucos centímetros um do outro ainda.

"E isso não vai mudar."

Blaine abriu os olhos, subitamente dominado pela proximidade das íris verde-azuladas de Kurt inundando sua visão "Não. Mmm, você tem os olhos mais bonitos."

"Estou com medo, Blaine." A maneira como ele acabou de admitir, claramente e sem pretensão, torceu algo no coração de Blaine. Kurt normalmente era muito cauteloso com suas emoções; ainda surpreendia Blaine às vezes que Kurt era tão aberto e confiante com ele.

Blaine se aninhou na bochecha de Kurt, desejando ser forte por seu namorado. "Vai ficar tudo bem", ele disse,tentando se convencer tanto quanto Kurt. "Você vai ter Rachel, e não vai demorar muito para aprender o área e se acostumar com a cidade e metrôs. Em breve, tenho certeza de que você estará tão envolvido em suas aulas que a mudança nem vai mais incomodá-lo. "

"Não, não é isso", respondeu Kurt. "Quero dizer, sim, isso, mas estou com medo de nós. Sobre o que vai acontecer com nós"

"Nada vai acontecer conosco", disse Blaine ferozmente. "Nós seremos como sempre somos. Mais longe."

"Mas e se isso não for suficiente? E se falar ao telefone, enviar um e-mail ou Skyping e nunca conseguir tocar ou beijar ou abraçar você, ou passar um tempo com você, e se isso- "

"Ei", Blaine acalmou. Ele se afastou para olhar Kurt corretamente, alisando uma mecha de cabelo da testa.

"Ei, agora. Um dia de cada vez, ok? Não vai ser fácil. Eu sei. Acredite em mim, eu sei - só estar em Dalton sem você foi difícil. Mas também acredito que somos fortes o suficiente para fazê-lo. Nosso amor é forte o suficiente, Kurt. "

Kurt exalou trêmulo. "É só até dezembro."

"Só até dezembro", Blaine repetiu, assentindo. "Olha", ele disse, rolando para abrir a gaveta em sua mesa de apoio. "Eu comprei algo. Para nós. E eu sei que você achará brega, mas é importante."

Ele encontrou O minúsculo envelope pardo que ele estava procurando e rolou de volta, entregando-o a Kurt.

Kurt abriu a aba do envelope e jogou o conteúdo na palma da mão, uma expressão confusa em seu rosto. Dois anéis de prata combinados deslizaram para sua mão aberta, tilintando suavemente.

"Eles são anéis de promessa", disse Blaine, arrancando um da palma de Kurt. "E eles são idênticos, então sabemos que em algum lugar lá fora, milhas e milhas de distância, há outro garoto usando o mesmo anel. É como se nós nuca realmente separe, porque teremos esses anéis nos conectando ao longo das milhas ".

Kurt passou um dedo sobre o anel na palma da mão, um pequeno sorriso enfeitando os cantos dos lábios. "Olhe para você, senhor Bom em romance - ele murmurou, inclinando-se para beijar Blaine castamente. Eles deslizaram os anéis sobre os dedos um do outro e entrelaçaram suas mãos firmemente.

"Anéis mágicos de super-heróis", Blaine sussurrou, balançando as sobrancelhas.

"Ok, agora você arruinou o momento, seu imbecil", disse Kurt, seu sorriso se espalhando em um sorriso.


	4. 4

Capítulo quatro

  
2021

  
Kurt acordou uma manhã ao som de Rachel vomitando no banheiro no corredor. "Oh, querida",   
disse ele , encontrando-a enrolada no chão de azulejos, segurando o vaso sanitário pela vida. "Você bebeu demais na festa do elenco ontem à noite?" Ele se encostou no batente da porta.

  
Rachel fez uma careta para ele, rosto esgotado de todas as cores. "Acho que não. Não parecia." Ela se virou bruscamente e secou sobre o vaso sanitário. Kurt se ajoelhou no chão ao lado dela e afastou os cabelos do rosto.

  
"Talvez você tenha exagerado." Ele esfregou a mão para cima e para baixo nas costas dela suavemente. "Afinal, você mesmo disse que está chegando aos trinta anos. Talvez não consiga segurar a bebida tão bem quanto antes."

  
Um dos punhos de Rachel disparou de onde estava enrolado no vaso sanitário e espetou Kurt nas   
costelas. "Idiota", ela murmurou, enquanto Kurt gargalhava.

  
"Tudo bem, princesa. Vou colocar Funny Girl no DVD player e fazer um café da manhã leve antes de sair para o trabalho. Você fica confortável no sofá."

  
Ela suspirou agradecida quando ele se levantou. "Obrigado."

  
Kurt parou na porta. "Você não acha que é ..." ele começou.

  
"O que?"

  
"Enjoo matinal?"

  
"Kurt, estou bem à sua frente aqui. Eu já fiz um teste."

  
"E?"

  
"E eu tenho que esperar mais alguns minutos para ver se há uma linha rosa ou duas. Acabamos de fazer a   
inseminação, o quê? Há um mês? Provavelmente nem demorou." De repente, ela cambaleou e se inclinou sobre o vaso sanitário novamente. Kurt a deixou correndo e foi até a cozinha, montando o musical favorito de Rachel na sala de estar primeiro. Ele fez algumas torradas e chá de gengibre para acalmar seu estômago, cantarolando levemente. Ele ouviu a descarga do banheiro e os sons de Rachel escovando os dentes, e tomou isso como um bom sinal.

Kurt saiu da cozinha alguns minutos depois, segurando uma caneca fumegante em uma mão e um prato de torrada na outra. "Rach, traga o termômetro com você, está bem? Eu só quero ter certeza de que você não está com temperatura antes de eu sair", disse ele, colocando o chá na mesa de café. Ele olhou para cima para vê-la saindo lentamente do banheiro, segurando um graveto branco na frente dos olhos com uma expressão interrogativa no rosto.

  
"Oh, bom, você já tem o termômetro", disse ele, voltando a organizar o café da manhã. "Venha se deitar ."

  
"Não", disse Rachel. Kurt olhou para cima de novo, realmente vendo sua expressão e a maneira como ela diminuiu a velocidade até parar no meio da sala. Ele abandonou sua agitação, de pé, com o prato na mão.

  
"O que é isso?" Kurt olhou de soslaio para o pedaço de plástico em suas mãos.

  
"Kurt, acho que estamos grávidos", disse Rachel.

  
O prato nas mãos de Kurt tombou, a torrada escorregou e caiu, espalhando migalhas sobre as tábuas do chão.

  
Agosto de 2012

  
Kurt estava ocupado, desembalando uma de suas malas e tentando não pensar muito em Blaine ou na estranheza de estar subitamente adulto e sozinho na cidade grande, quando um garoto alto e bronzeado, de cabelos loiros e olhos esbugalhados. óculos de sol entraram em seu quarto e anunciaram: "Seu novo companheiro de quarto chegou".

  
Kurt mal havia processado a chegada repentina do garoto quando ele jogou os óculos de sol na ponta do   
nariz, espiou por cima deles em Kurt e acrescentou: "Você é gay".

  
Kurt piscou. "Hum, sim, eu sou", disse ele. "Isso é um problema?"

  
O garoto deu de ombros. "Não, a menos que você se importe com outros caras vindo até você."

  
"Não, eu quis dizer que isso é um problema para você?" Kurt esclareceu. Parece que ele estava com um curinga nas mãos, pensou irritado.

  
O garoto sorriu diabolicamente. "Mesma resposta." Sua voz era suave e fria, e seus olhos maliciosos   
percorreram o corpo de Kurt antes que ele deslizasse os óculos de sol para cobri-los novamente.

  
Kurt percebeu com súbito pânico que estava sendo paquerado. "Você está dizendo ..." ele começou.

  
O garoto tirou os óculos escuros, claramente um movimento muito praticado. "Oi. Eu sou Jamie", ele disse, entrando muito no espaço de Kurt e apertando sua mão. "Sim, eu também sou gay. E eu tenho um excelente gaydar,  
  
"Eu sou Kurt." Ele não sabia o que fazer nesse tipo de situação.

  
"Oi, Kurt. Você é precioso. Eu gosto de você." Outro brilho nos olhos de Jamie, e Kurt sentiu suas bochechas ficando mais quentes   
a cada segundo. Ele teve que acabar com isso, e rápido. A última coisa que ele precisava era Sebastian 2.0.

  
"Oh, hum, estou lisonjeado, mas tenho um namorado", ele murmurou.

  
Jamie inclinou a cabeça. "Sério? Ou isso é apenas o seu jeito de tentar me decepcionar fácil?" Ele ainda não tinha saido do espaço pessoal de Kurt. 

"Não, sério. Ele voltou para casa em Ohio."

  
"Uma história provável. Qual é o nome dele?" Isso estava se transformando em um interrogatório.

  
"Blaine".

  
Jamie estudou Kurt curiosamente por um minuto e, em seguida, recuou abruptamente dois passos.  
  
Kurt olhou para ele.   
"Eu praticamente podia ver os corações nos seus olhos apenas com a menção do nome dele", explicou Jamie. " Há quanto tempo vocês estão juntos?"   
  
"Oh. Um ano e meio."

  
Ele assobiou. "Porra. Que pena para mim, então. Não há chance de levar você para o lado sombrio?"

  
Kurt ergueu as sobrancelhas, divertido. "Não. Estamos muito felizes juntos. Você quer ver uma foto dele?"

  
"Claro", Jamie disse gentilmente. "Vamos ver quem bate suas meias."

  
Kurt pegou uma moldura que ele colocara na pequena mesa amontoada contra sua cama. Era sua fotografia favorita dele e de Blaine, e ele a entregou a Jamie, enquanto eles se sentavam em suas camas para encarar um outro.

Na foto, eles estavam na sala do coral da McKinley High. Blaine estava atrás de Kurt com os braços cruzados sobre o peito, a cabeça apoiada no ombro de Kurt, sorrindo para Kurt com tanto amor   
que fez seu coração doer ao vê-lo. Os olhos de Kurt estavam fechados, o rosto uma explosão de riso, as mãos cruzadas nos braços de Blaine. Quando ele viu a foto pela primeira vez, ele se maravilhou e não conseguiu acreditar o quão feliz ele parecia, até Finn lhe dizer: "Você sempre fica assim quando Blaine está por perto".

  
"Uau", disse Jamie, trazendo os pensamentos de Kurt de volta ao presente. "Parabéns por encontrar um visualizador. Ele é fofo, fofo, fofo!"

  
"Ele é ainda mais adorável pessoalmente", respondeu Kurt, sorrindo tristemente.

  
Jamie percebeu a expressão de Kurt. "Ah, você sente falta dele."

  
Kurt assentiu enquanto tirava a foto de Jamie e a colocava cuidadosamente de volta na posição, inclinando-a em direção ao travesseiro.

  
Em tom de conversa, Jamie continuou: "Você disse que ele estava em Ohio? Ele foi para uma escola estadual ou algo assim?"

  
"Não, ele ainda está no ensino médio. Este é o último ano dele."

  
"Roubar o berço, legal." Kurt sorriu genuinamente desta vez. Ele estava começando a gostar deste novo e peculiar companheiro de quarto agora que não estava se forçando descaradamente a ele e pensou que eles se dariam bem.

  
2021   
  
"Como está o brinde hoje?" Kurt perguntou a Rachel uma semana depois por telefone. Ele caminhou lentamente pela rua, segurando o casaco sobre o braço. Os brotos começavam a se formar nas árvores, o sol estava brilhando e o clima Finalmente começava a se dissipar após um longo inverno.

  
"Torrada é oficial", ela respondeu, sua voz borbulhando de felicidade.

  
"O médico confirmou?"

  
"Sim! Estou prevista para o dia 9 de novembro. Estamos tendo um bebê. Parabéns, pai!"

  
9 de novembro. 9 de novembro. Kurt sabia que havia algo importante em 9 de novembro ... ah   
sim, esse era o dia em que ele e Blaine se conheceram. "Parabéns, mãe!" ele respondeu, e ele e Rachel riram ao longo da linha como crianças de doze anos confessando suas paixões.

  
"Onde você está?" Rachel perguntou. "Nas ruas? Parece alto."

  
"Sim. Mary me enviou para esta loja de tecidos raros para pegar algo para ela." Kurt revirou os olhos. Ele   
supôs que deveria ser honrado - Mary DuPre raramente confiava em seus assistentes para manusear seus   
tecidos mais importantes, caros e importados, e foi a primeira vez que ele foi convidado a fazê-lo - mas isso significou Fazer uma viagem para praticamente o outro lado da linha. Manhattan.

  
"Bem", disse Rachel, "faça com que você conte as boas notícias a Jamie se você passar por ele na sala de trabalho esta tarde."

  
"Oh, eu vou, não se preocupe."

  
"Vou ligar para meus pais agora, ok? Eles ficarão tão animados! E você tem que ligar para Burt e Carole!"

  
"Mais tarde hoje à noite. Tenho certeza de que eles ficarão tão emocionados quanto seus pais."

  
Felizmente para Kurt, o momento de Rachel estava no local certo - ele chegou à loja de tecidos no momento em que se desconectava da conversa. Sorrindo para si mesmo, ele entrou no elevador e apertou o botão do terceiro andar, onde ficava a loja.

  
No segundo nível, um homem de aparência atormentada entrou ao lado dele, carregando uma pilha de papéis.

"Que andar?" Kurt perguntou, dedos apoiados nos botões.

  
"Terceiro, por favor." O homem mexeu nos papéis nos braços para verificar as horas no relógio quando as   
portas do elevador se fecharam novamente.

  
"Eu também", disse Kurt genialmente. O elevador subiu, mas parou quase imediatamente. Kurt olhou para cima apreensivamente no mostrador indicando em que andar estavam. Estava preso no meio do caminho entre o segundo e o terceiro andar.

"Ah, não, nós estamos-" ele começou, mas foi interrompido quando o elevador deu uma última   
guinada, deixando Kurt desequilibrado. Ele se aproximou de lado do homem, que largou os papéis para impedir que Kurt caísse, apoiando-o com as mãos. Os jornais se espalharam por toda parte em confusão.

"Oh Deus, me desculpe!" Kurt exclamou, curvando-se para reuni-los em uma pilha razoavelmente limpa.

  
"Não, não, era o elevador, não você", respondeu o homem, também agachado para recolher os papéis.

  
"Mas agora eles estão todos fora de ordem. Que bagunça." Ele entregou sua parte da pilha ao homem, que escovou sua mão quando ele os pegou. Kurt olhou nos olhos pela primeira vez, surpreso com o toque gentil. Atrás dos óculos, eles eram castanhos chocolate quentes e sensíveis. Eles lembraram Kurt um pouco da de Blaine.

  
Eles ficaram juntos, o homem ajudando Kurt pelo cotovelo. "Está tudo bem", ele enfatizou. "Realmente. Isso me dará algo para fazer, pois parece que estamos presos aqui. Estou mais preocupado com minhas três horas, verdade seja dita."

  
Kurt tentou o botão do terceiro andar novamente. O elevador não se mexeu. Ele tentou o quarto andar e   
não se saiu melhor. "O que fazemos? Isso nunca aconteceu comigo antes."

  
"Este elevador é péssimo", disse o homem. "Acontece com alguém neste edifício pelo menos uma vez por mês. Nós apenas tem que ligar no telefone de emergência. Aqui, deixe-me. - Ele estendeu a mão sobre Kurt, e eles se arrastaram pelo   
espaço apertado até que o homem pudesse pegar o fone e transmitir a mensagem de que estavam   
presos. - Eles estão a caminho. Poderia também se sentir confortável. Isso pode demorar um pouco. Ele   
se sentou no chão, encostado na parede, e começou a vasculhar seus papéis.

  
Kurt se encostou na parede oposta e o observou por alguns minutos. O homem era bonito, pele bronzeada e marrom arrebatadora. Os óculos e o terno feito sob medida, que Kurt notou com aprovação, o fizeram   
parecer inteligente e livre de livros.

"Você quer ajuda com isso?", ofereceu Kurt.   
  
O homem balançou a cabeça, olhando brevemente. "Eu não vou aborrecê-lo com o meu trabalho." Ele olhou o relógio novamente."Ótimo. Passa das três. Vou sentir falta do meu cliente." 

"Fique feliz por não estar no meu lugar", disse Kurt, tentando acalmá-lo. "Você não tem um chefe impaciente esperando do outro lado da cidade para você chegar com o pedido dela. Se eu não receber de volta até o final da tarde, ela vai estragar a tampa. Eu deveria pegue às três. "

Ele piscou, levantando a cabeça de repente para   
encarar o homem. Então ele riu suavemente.

  
"O que?" o homem perguntou, confuso.

  
"Eu sou suas três horas."

  
"O que?" ele repetiu.

  
"Eu sou suas três horas.  
  
"Eu estou - sim. Sim, eu estou." Eles se entreolharam por um momento antes dos sorrisos irromperem nos dois rostos.

  
"Parece que você não vai perder esse compromisso, afinal. Eu sou Kurt, a propósito. Kurt Hummel." Kurt   
se ajoelhou para apertar a mão do homem.

  
"Emilio Rodriguez." Eles apertaram as mãos, segurando um segundo mais do que o necessário.

"Para que você precisa da renda, afinal?"

  
Kurt se sentou no chão ao lado de Emilio. "Eu trabalho para Mary DuPre. Ela está pensando em incorporá-lo em sua última linha."

  
"Ah. Entendo. Bem, se ela realmente quisesse a melhor renda de qualidade, ela deveria ter ido com-"

  
"Italiana."

  
"Exatamente." Emilio sorriu calorosamente para ele, seu trabalho abandonado no colo.

  
"Ela poderia argumentar sobre os méritos da renda francesa, mas o italiano sempre foi superior em meu livro. Eu nunca diria que tão na sua cara, no entanto. Eu nunca ouviria o fim disso. Na verdade, Eu provavelmente seria demitido por ousar   
contradizê-la. "

  
"Você está certo, no entanto. Você tem um bom olho."

  
Kurt jogou a cabeça para trás. "Gay típico, eu suponho", disse ele altivamente.

  
"Não", respondeu Emilio suavemente. "Não é tão típico. Nem um pouco." Ele se inclinou para Kurt lentamente e, antes que Kurt pudesse registrar completamente o que estava acontecendo, ele estava sendo beijado, os lábios de Emilio roçando levemente os seus. Ele   
retornou o beijo, afundando na pressão suave dos lábios e se perdendo por um momento.  
Quando eles se afastaram, o elevador guinchou e começou a subir novamente. Os dois pularam com o   
movimento repentino antes de trocar sorrisos tímidos.

"Obrigado por me salvar", murmurou Kurt, e Emilio   
abaixou a cabeça. "Hum, normalmente não faço isso.

"   
Emilio riu baixinho. "O que, beijando estranhos em elevadores quebrados?"   
"Você gostaria de sair comigo algum dia?" Kurt deixou escapar. "Eu gostaria de sair com você."

  
"Seria uma honra", respondeu Emilio, olhando para Kurt por entre os cílios.

  
Quando Kurt saiu do prédio naquele dia, ele tinha seu pedido de renda em uma bolsa, o número de Emilio no bolso de trás e uma data marcada para o fim de semana seguinte.

  
***  
Ele caiu forte e caiu rápido. Por mais clichê que fosse essa afirmação, era a única maneira de Kurt descrever seu romance com Emilio. A data se seguiu - as noites formais de jantar, beber ou ir ao teatro davam lugar a noites tranquilas em casa, cozinhando uma para a outra ou abraçando na frente de filmes meio ignorados.

  
Beijos hesitantes e mãos dadas se tornaram gestos confiantes de carinho, sessões de uma hora de folga,   
noites sem dormir emaranhadas na cama. Enquanto o estômago de Rachel crescia, Emilio se tornou tão presente no apartamento quanto Kurt, e camada após camada foi revelada quando Kurt caiu de cabeça em um buraco sempre profundo.

  
Emilio era uma miríade de coisas. Dono de uma loja de tecidos, drag queen, figurinista. Primeira geração  
Americano. Amante, aprendiz, ouvinte. Ele estava quieto e reservado, mas surpreendentemente ousado, sem aviso prévio. Ele desapareceu no fundo de sua loja, engolido por fileiras de linho e seda, mas no palco, no arrasto, ele comandou uma audiência. Emilio desafiou Kurt, cutucando-o gentilmente para se tornar mais receptivo, ou às vezes brigando com ele para remover seus julgamentos e suposições naturais. E Emilio surpreendeu Kurt, mantendo-o adivinhando com presentes repentinos "só porque", palavras impetuosas e honestas foram lançadas no meio de discussões,   
pequenas notas doces deixadas na geladeira, elogios e elogios inesperados. Kurt não queria nada mais   
do que continuar tendo que adivinhar o máximo de tempo possível.

  
Ele acompanhou Kurt em uma viagem de fim de semana a Ohio e conheceu Burt, Carole, Finn e sua esposa Amy. Kurt conheceu a família de Emilio na Venezuela, via chat por vídeo no Skype. Ambos tinham uma gaveta reservada nos apartamentos um do outro - bem, Kurt tinha meio armário - e uma escova de dentes extra ao lado da pia. Eles começaram a discutir   
futuros, famílias, carreiras e comprometimento, mas quando a proposta chegou, apenas cinco meses depois, Kurt ainda surpreendeu.

  
"Kurt?" Emilio disse, segurando a caixa do anel aberta, onde se ajoelhou aos seus pés. "Você não está dizendo nada."

  
Era tudo o que ele sempre quis, não foi? E aqui estava o pobre Emilio, esperando uma eternidade por sua   
resposta e provavelmente se preocupando em um frenesi.

"Sim", disse Kurt finalmente, tentando respirar normalmente."Sim, sim, é claro que eu vou me casar com você." Ele se sentiu afundar no chão, sentiu Emilio abraçá -lo com força , sentiu beijos salpicos na testa, bochechas e lábios, mas não parecia real.


	5. 5

Chapter Five

  
2021

  
"I, for one, think we should name her Barbra, after, of course, our greatest inspiration, the great Barbra  
Streisand." Rachel was yet again trying make the case for her favorite name.

  
"Rachel," Kurt sighed, massaging her thighs as they rested over his lap, "let me remind you that Barbra  
Streisand is your greatest inspiration, not mine. And as great as she is, I think Toast deserves something a  
bit more personal, don’t you?"

  
"But what could be more personal than the woman who single-handedly set me on the path to Broadway  
success?" Her ever-growing stomach rose and fell a bit quicker. She was ready to fight for it.

  
"Well, I was thinking more along the lines of..." He paused.

  
"What, Kurt?"

  
"Rose." His hands stilled as he stole a glance at Rachel.  
"Rose? Like-"

  
"Like my mom. Yeah." Kurt tipped his face to Rachel’s stomach to avoid her gaze, resting his cheek above  
her belly button.

  
"Kurt..."

  
"It’s okay, you don’t have to feel like you have to go along with it."

  
He felt her fingers thread through his hair. "No, it’s not that. You just never mentioned it. I didn’t know it  
was important to you." Kurt was silent, waiting for her to go on. "Rose," she finally said, a contemplative  
tone to her voice. "Rose. We could call her Rosie."

  
"What do you think, Toast?" Kurt asked Rachel’s stomach. "Would you like to be named Rose?"  
  
Immediately, Kurt felt a jolt, as if he had been punched in the face by a tiny fist. "What was that?" he asked,  
concerned, lifting his cheek to gauge Rachel’s expression.

  
Rachel laughed. "She’s kicking. Lay your face down again."

  
"Kicking?" Kurt asked in wonder, pressing his cheek to Rachel’s stomach again. "Hi, Rosie," he said softly,  
and felt the little jolt again. "I can feel her." He smiled.

  
"She likes her daddy’s voice," Rachel said warmly.

  
"Or maybe she’s trying to tell me to go away with my silly name suggestions," Kurt countered.

  
"No. She’s happy," Rachel replied, so surely that Kurt didn’t question her any more.

  
***  
"Kurt! Kurt!" Emilio came bursting into the apartment, sweeping Kurt up into a hug and swinging him  
around.

  
Kurt laughed. "What’s gotten into you?" he said, feet once again firmly planted on the floor.

  
"I just landed a job designing costumes! For a cabaret night at that club, The Dark Room. I’m going to be  
doing the costumes for the drag queens, and they also want me to host the event as my drag persona! Isn’t  
that fantastic?"

  
Kurt took a moment for everything to sink in. "That’s fantastic, yes, Emilio," he said, plastering a smile on  
his face. "But you know what I think about that place. It’s trashy."

  
"Oh, come on. It’s only my third paid gig doing what I truly love!" Emilio’s excitement was palpable- eyes  
alight, anticipatory grin spreading across his features. "Here, look at the mock-up of the program they’ve  
printed up." He pulled a paper pamphlet from his back pocket and handed it to Kurt.

  
Kurt flipped through it warily. "Well, there you are- ‘MC Casta Nett.’ Let’s see, what else- oh, a performance  
by the band Boy Bulge. Charming. And featured dancers Raphael and Indigo, lovely." He handed the  
program back to Emilio, snickering.  
  
"You’re not being very supportive." The grin was fading from Emilio’s face.

  
"I’m happy for you," Kurt said, patting his shoulder.

  
"That’s it? I’m sorry I came all the way here, then, if it’s too much to ask for my fiancé to legitimately  
congratulate me."

  
Kurt curled the hand on Emilio’s shoulder into his jacket. "No- hey, no, Emilio. I’m sorry. You’re right- I  
should be more supportive. That place just skeeves me out." He embraced his fiancé and planted a small  
kiss on his temple.

  
Emilio looked up through his lashes hopefully. "You’ll come to the show, though?"

  
"Of course. I wouldn’t miss it."

  
***  
Kurt stood smashed in the crowd, just a few rows back from the stage. Packed tightly around him were  
sweaty, overenthusiastic guys, mostly in their early twenties, many drunk out of their minds, as it was  
nearing the end of the show. And thank goodness for that. There was nothing Kurt wanted to do more  
than go home and take a shower. As much as he loved Emilio, this was an experience he’d rather not  
repeat, even if meant feigning sickness the next time his fiancé scored a job like this.

  
Speaking of his fiancé, Emilio- or rather, Casta Nett- was currently sashaying around the stage as the next  
act set up behind the curtain, interacting with the crowd. Kurt still marveled at Emilio every time he took  
the stage as his alter ego- he was so different from the quiet, unassuming fabric shop owner Kurt had met  
just six months ago. And he looked rather glorious, Kurt had to admit- his eyelids falling heavy with dark  
blue shadow, lashes bathed in glitter, a sweeping black up-do, a shimmering red dress and black velvet  
gloves.

  
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice yelling from somewhere at the back of the crowd. "You can  
cast a net over me anytime!" This was followed by several hoots and whistles.

  
"Sorry, boys, but I’ve already caught myself a man!" Emilio replied coyly, and the crowd erupted in hollers  
and clapping. "Now, now, there’s only so much I can do," Emilio continued in his put-on, overly feminine  
voice. "And believe me, I’ve got my hands full with this one!" Kurt blushed at the implication, while the  
catcalls increased around him.

  
"And now, I’m sorry to inform you all, we’ve reached our final act of the evening," Emilio said. The crowd  
expressed it’s disapproval, and Emilio spoke over them, "But don’t worry, it’s a good one! I hear he has  
quite the reputation. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. He goes by the name of Indigo."

The lights dropped, leaving just a blue glow, and Emilio sauntered off to the steps leading down to the floor, leaving the stage empty. The crowd was still rowdy as the opening notes of Katy Perry’s old song "E.T." started to filter through the sound system. The curtains parted to reveal a cage holding a crouched, winged figure.

  
Fog floated to cover his feet as he started to move, spine uncurling, wings fanning out.  
The dancer called Indigo pushed at the front of the cage, and the bars swung outward soundlessly. He  
stepped out gracefully, snapping his head up to scan the crowd for the first time, slowly revolving from  
side to side. Kurt was reminded of a predator looking for prey. Indigo’s face was covered in blue and silver  
paint, forming a mask around his eyes, and he was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of tight silver shorts  
and the angel-like wings strapped across his back. He was sleek and toned, and as he started to dance  
across the stage, he moved smoothly and elegantly despite the overtly sexual nature of his dance.  
The chorus hit, pounding over the speakers: "Kiss. Me. K-k-kiss me," and Indigo’s eyes met Kurt’s as the  
strobe light flashed above them. The dancer froze for a startled split-second, barely noticeable to the  
enthusiastic crowd, but Kurt’s breath suddenly caught in his throat. Indigo’s eyes, framed by his mask of  
face paint, were honey-hazel, a golden color Kurt had only ever seen once before. As Indigo continued to  
move deftly across the stage, Kurt took in his dark, curly hair, his long-fingered hands as they trailed down  
his own body, the curves and angles that seemed utterly familiar to Kurt. It can’t be, he thought. And yet,  
as the song continued, Indigo kept scanning the crowd for Kurt’s eyes, meeting them and then darting  
away when he found Kurt staring back every time.

  
The performance seemed much longer than the three or four minutes of the song. Indigo danced, his  
expression, somehow lost and sad, never changing. Hands reached out from the front row of the crowd to  
caress the tips of his feathered wings, to tuck money into the waistband of his silver shorts, lingering  
longer than strictly necessary. Kurt felt sick to his stomach as he watched. If this was who he thought it  
was, he was a far cry from the boy with the pocket watch, gelled hair, and vibrant smile.

  
As Indigo returned to his cage, enclosed himself inside, and grasped the bars, staring straight ahead and  
breathing hard, Katy Perry’s last word, "ex-tra-terrestrial," hung over the crowd. The lights dimmed and the curtains closed to loud cheering. Emilio took the stage again to close out the show. "That dancer," Kurt said over the screaming to the man next to him, "who is he?"

  
"Indigo? He’s a regular, here most nights. Why- like what you see?" The man smiled jauntily. Kurt ignored  
his last comment and turned to listen to his fiancé, but his head was miles away, focusing on an elegant  
staircase in a boy’s private high school.

  
"My name’s Blaine."

  
"Kurt..."

  
***  
Kurt turned down the covers of his bed and climbed in, relishing the silky-smooth feel of them across his  
freshly washed skin. He sighed and closed his eyes. His head was pounding faintly with the beat of the  
music from the club, and he was still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that he had seen Blaine  
Anderson, of all people, there- and not just in the crowd of drunken hopeful twenty-somethings, but on  
the stage, performing for them. This was the same boy who had once mocked Sam Evans for stripping,  
after all- what had he become?

  
Kurt felt the bed dip beside him and cracked open an eye. Emilio, now rid of his drag persona and staying  
the night, slid under the comforter and curled into Kurt, flinging an arm across his waist. He hummed  
contentedly. "You’re the best pillow. I’m exhausted."

  
"You were fantastic tonight," Kurt said. Their voices, soft breathing, and the ever-present drone of the cars  
on the street below were the only sounds. "And the costumes looked great."

  
"Mm. Thank you. I’m so happy you came."

  
Kurt snuggled closer. "I braved a creepy club and lonely strangers with grabby hands, all for Casta Nett."

  
Emilio laughed, a bright burst in the stillness. "Come on, it wasn’t that bad."

  
"Well, I guess it beats the sole gay bar in Lima. Scandals." Kurt suppressed a shudder.

  
"Lima? Has a gay bar? And you’ve been there?"

  
"Yes, it has a gay bar. I snuck in my senior year of high school.

  
"Kurt Hummel, I’m shocked." Emilio tickled his ribs.

  
"It was half-empty, filled with pool tables, men in flannel, and sad excuses for drag queens." He could feel Emílio smile against his chest.

  
"Sounds peachy."

  
They were quiet for a bit, Emilio tracing patterns over Kurt’s ribs and hips, Kurt kneading his fingers into  
Emilio’s back, trading chaste kisses. Out on the street below, a rowdy group was singing loudly and offkey.

  
"You’ll never guess who was performing in your show tonight," Kurt said eventually.

  
"Who?" Emilio sounded half-asleep already.

  
"My ex. Who, coincidentally, accompanied me to Lima’s one and only gay bar my senior year."

  
Emilio perked up slightly. "Really? What did you say his name was? Blake or something?"

  
"Blaine."

  
"And he was performing tonight?"

  
Kurt stroked the back of Emilio’s neck lazily. "Yes. Well, I’m pretty sure it was him, unless he has an exact  
replica wandering the streets of Manhattan."

  
"Was he a queen, or..."

  
"No, he was one of the dancers."

  
Emilio leaned up on his elbow so that he could look Kurt in the eye. "You sound concerned."  
  
"Well, yeah, it was just bizarre, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting it. I’d never expect that of him."

  
"It’s been how many years since you were together?"

  
"Five."

  
Emilio shrugged. "A lot can change in five years."

  
"I felt bad for him. He didn’t look like he wanted to be up there."

  
Emilio rand a hand down Kurt’s cheek. "You worry too much. It’s not like anyone’s forcing him to do it. I  
bet the money’s decent, actually."

  
"It’s not that. It’s just so unlike him. And he looked... I don’t know... miserable. I don’t think the crowd  
could tell; they were all cheering and too far gone to notice anyway. But I knew."

  
"If it bothers you so much, go down to the club and ask how he is. I’m sure he’s fine."

  
"Yeah, you’re probably right." Kurt wasn’t convinced, though. His mind started to drift to Blaine’s performance earlier that evening; to his eyes behind his silvery-blue mask, the eyes Kurt could read like a  
book, the eyes that caught on his own and kept returning.

  
"How about we forget about your ex-boyfriend, hm?" Emilio’s voice brought him back to the present. "I  
think Casta Nett deserves a reward for a job well done." He took Kurt’s hand in his own and trailed it  
down his own chest, dipping it into the waistband of his boxers.

  
Kurt smirked. "You’re shameless," he said, but wrapped his hand around Emilio all the same.

  
December 2012  
Kurt finally reached the baggage claim area of Port Columbus International Airport, but instead of joining  
his fellow passengers lining up around the revolving conveyer belt to retrieve his luggage, he stood on the  
spot, scanning the crowd, looking for one face in particular. He was bouncing on his heels, biting his lower  
lip, anticipation and excitement making him antsy. It had been four months without him. Four months  
without seeing his warm, tender smile. Four months without twining their fingers together. Four months  
without his strong, solid arms wrapped around him, without fitting their lips together, four months cut off  
like lost puzzle pieces. Kurt imagined this must be how the moon feels about its other half, the sun.  
He scanned the crowd once more, and there Blaine was, slick-haired and bright-eyed, bouncing above the  
heads of everyone else as he ran to Kurt. Heads turned and questioning glances followed him, but he  
didn’t notice as he wove around groups of people and stacks of suitcases, crashing into Kurt full-force and  
laughing uncontrollably as he flung his arms around his neck at last. "Missed you," he said breathlessly. "I  
missed you so much."

  
Kurt hugged Blaine back just as tightly. "I know," he said, and then he pulled back and sealed his lips with  
Blaine’s in a dazzlingly passionate kiss, not even caring that they were surrounded by strangers. God, did  
he know.

  
As they broke apart, Blaine ran his hand down Kurt’s arm until he skimmed his fingers over the promise  
ring that fit so perfectly around Kurt’s finger now, as if it had always been a part of him. He interlocked  
their fingers and pulled Kurt towards the baggage claim, sighing contentedly when their rings knocked  
together.

  
"I didn’t take it off," Kurt said reassuringly.

  
Blaine looked over at him, his eyes swimming with a subtle fire. It was a look that Kurt knew was reserved  
for himself, and it still took his breath away every time he saw it. "No," Blaine said. "I knew you wouldn’t. I  
just like knowing it’s there."

  
***  
Later that night, after dinner with Burt, Carole, and Finn, after the football game on the living room T.V.  
was over, after somehow convincing Kurt’s parents to let Blaine stay the night, they lay in the darkness  
together. Finally alone, they traded "you’re here" and "I’ve been counting down the days," "so, so  
beautiful" and "god, it’s been too long," "did you forget me" and "never." They brushed their feet together,  
knotted their legs into a twist, lingered their lips along warm skin, until Kurt was rubbing against Blaine,  
desperately hard. "Blaine," he begged frantically, his need burning into every pore.

  
"Shh. Let me take care of you," Blaine whispered, slipping his hand into Kurt’s briefs.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six  
2021  
Against his better judgment, Kurt took Emilio’s advice, and returned to The Dark Room because he  
couldn’t stop brooding about Blaine. It was a Saturday night, around eleven, and the club was starting to  
fill. Kurt paid the entry fee at the door and as soon as he was inside he made straight for the curtains  
separating the stage from the floor of the club.  
A bored-looking bouncer was standing at the foot of the stairs leading up to the stage, blocking the  
backstage area from the patrons. Kurt approached him. "I need to see Blaine," he said, bypassing small talk  
to get directly to the matter at hand.  
The bouncer looked at him, his expression stagnant. "There’s no one by that name here."  
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Indigo. Whatever."  
The bouncer swept his eyes up and down Kurt, taking in his impeccable outfit and perfectly coiffed hair,  
seemingly doubting him. "Do you know him?" he asked.  
"Tell him it’s Kurt," Kurt said firmly   
The bouncer stuck his head behind the curtain and talked to someone beyond for a moment. Then he and  
Kurt waited awkwardly for a few minutes before a young man- Kurt recognized him as Raphael, the other  
dancer from the cabaret night- poked his head out of the curtain and spoke briefly to the bouncer. The  
bouncer nodded once, and Raphael disappeared behind the curtain again. "Indigo says he doesn’t know  
anybody named Kurt, and even if he did, he wouldn’t let him backstage," the bouncer said, his voice  
measured and his face completely unemotional with what must have been years of practice.  
"That’s ludicrous," Kurt said. "I was his boyfriend for five years, for god’s sake."  
The bouncer’s eyes returned to scanning the floor. "Perhaps that’s why he’s refusing you access," he said  
calmly, and Kurt could have sworn he was making fun of him. When Kurt didn’t move for the next several  
minutes, he added, "The show starts in an hour. You’ll see him then." Translation: get away from the  
curtain because there’s no way I’m letting you backstage.  
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\- - 39 - -  
Kurt meandered to the bar and bought himself a drink, keeping his eyes trained on the bouncer and the  
curtain. He wasn’t about to give up so easily, and he bided his time, waiting for an opening. It wasn’t long  
before the bouncer was distracted by a mild scuffle that had broken out near the corner of the stage, and  
Kurt seized his opportunity, jumping up from the bar and hastily making his way across the floor, slipping  
behind the curtain and leaving his drink behind.  
He found himself in a dimly-lit, brick-walled hallway. Bare lightbulbs cast circles of light periodically along  
the wall, and doors leading off the hallway opened and shut constantly, spilling yellow light across the hall  
as the performers crossed from dressing room to dressing room. Kurt didn’t hesitate by the curtain, in  
case the bouncer returned. Instead, he walked slowly down the hallway, peering into each room he came  
across. Halfway down, he was nearly run down by a hurrying man carrying a garment bag and a feathery  
headdress. "Are you supposed to be back here?" he asked in irritation. Kurt ignored him.  
Finally, the last door on the right rewarded him. Inside was a small dressing room, lined at one side with  
showbiz mirrors framed with bulbs and tables scattered with assorted makeup. The rest of the room was  
stuffed with rolling wardrobe hangers, crammed with costumes, and piles of masks and props stacked  
haphazardly in boxes and baskets. There were three men sitting in a row at the mirrors. Two of them  
were chatting amiably with one another, but the one furthest from the door was silent, applying a thick  
layer of black eyeliner around his honey-hazel eyes. Kurt watched him for a moment as he passed the  
pencil back and forth underneath his lower lashes. As he finished one eye and positioned the pencil to  
start on the other, his eyes flicked up minutely, freezing on the reflection of Kurt standing in the doorway.  
"I told them not to let you in," he said, and started on his other eye.  
"They didn’t," Kurt replied, stepping into the room. "Hello, Blaine."  
Blaine didn’t reply, carefully finishing with the eyeliner before picking up a large brush and dipping it into  
glittered powder. He swept the brush over his shoulders, neck, and cheeks, refusing to make eye contact.  
"What do you want, Kurt?" he finally asked. His voice was clipped.  
Kurt stood behind Blaine, watching him in the mirror. "I knew it was you," he said. "Last week at the  
cabaret night. And I know you saw me, too."  
"Yeah. What do you want?" he repeated. He examined his face in the mirror and picked up a tin of silver  
face paint.  
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\- - 40 - -  
"Nothing, Blaine. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. That’s all."  
Blaine took a smaller brush off the table and painted his eyelids silver. "I’m not dead, am I?"  
Kurt furrowed his brows. "No..."  
"Then I must be okay." He trailed the brush from his eyelids to the corners of his temples, creating  
elongated triangles to highlight his eyes.  
"No, Blaine- that’s not how it works."  
Blaine once again studied his face in the mirror. Apparently satisfied, he capped the tin of face paint and  
opened a drawer under the makeup table.  
"Just because you’re alive doesn’t mean you’re okay," Kurt continued. "Look, I know we didn’t end on the  
best terms, and I’m sorry it wasn’t easier for either of us, but I’ve moved on, and I really do care about  
your well-being. I want you to be okay, to be happy, Blaine, and it would mean a lot to me if... Blaine, what  
are you doing?"  
Blaine had taken a small bag out of the drawer and was arranging lines of white powder on the table in  
front of him. He plucked a crumpled dollar bill from amongst the wide array of makeup lining the mirror  
and rolled it into a tube. "What does it look like I’m doing?" he asked, still focusing on his tasks instead of  
looking Kurt in the eye. He placed the dollar bill at the end of one line of powder and inhaled it up his nose.  
"That better not be what I think it is," Kurt said slowly. It was as if he had stepped into some sort of  
dreamworld when he passed through that curtain. Blaine was an exotic dancer, and just did drugs in front  
of him. This could not possibly be the same boy who used to wear sweater vests, dance like a dork, and  
smile sweetly in a small-town café over his medium drip.  
"And if it is?" Blaine asked, like a challenge. Kurt didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of a way to reply, to  
reconcile his Blaine with this stranger sitting before him. "It helps me get through the show," Blaine said in  
lieu of Kurt’s silence, and leaned down to snort another line. Down the hall, Kurt heard the bouncer  
banging on doors, yelling, "Five minutes ‘til show time!"  
"Shit," Kurt hissed under his breath. He had to get out of here before he was found out. He dug into the   
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\- - 41 - -  
inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a pen. Then he peeled a post-it note off the top of the pile sitting on  
a corner of Blaine’s table, scribbling his phone number and address on it. "This is my contact info," he told  
Blaine, sticking the post-it on his mirror. "Please, Blaine. If you ever aren’t okay- I don’t care about our  
past. Just know that you have someone willing to help." Kurt caught a glimpse of Blaine’s eyes, finally  
lifting to look up at him, before he dashed out the door and down the hall, finding an exit and tumbling out  
into the alleyway behind the club.  
June 2013  
The weather was sticky with humidity, burning with the blaze of the sun. Blaine had all the windows  
down in his ratty old station wagon, the one he had bought with his own money from summers singing at  
Six Flags. Sure, it was held together with duct tape and wads of gum, but it was his, something he had  
worked for and earned in his own right. It was something they couldn’t take from him. And it made him  
feel independent and adult as he flew down the highway, warm air washing over his face and whirling his  
hair into a nest, radio blaring and sunglasses shielding him from the sun’s rays.  
This was freedom. Driving away from his past, leaving Ohio and all its baggage behind. He was no longer  
the boy who had been beaten into submission, left bleeding on the pavement, forced into stiff uniforms,  
molded into an image of perfection. He was no longer "the gay kid," labeled and judged before he even had  
a chance to speak for himself. Truth be told, he hadn’t been that kid for a while, at least not in his own  
mind. If he were to label himself with anything, it would be Kurt’s. And now he was driving- not only away,  
but more importantly, to. Blaine had the promise of Kurt to welcome him when he reached the city, a  
pinpoint of love and warmth amid cold gray skyscrapers. He was coming home.  
When he parked his car in front of his new apartment building, after miles of dashed yellow lines and  
woven, grid-locked traffic, Blaine felt as if he had finally, for the first time in his life, arrived. Kurt came out  
onto the sidewalk to greet him, ran around to the driver’s side door, and pulled Blaine into a wistful hug as  
soon as he stepped out of the car, as if he had starved for the feel of him over all the months alone. They  
stayed like that for minutes. They stayed like that for hours. Days. Kurt’s beautiful face was all Blaine  
could see, and though he was surrounded by an ocean of unfamiliar streets, buildings, and people, he was  
surrounded by Kurt, too, and Blaine knew this was exactly where he belonged.  
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Chapter Seven  
January 2015  
The snowstorm was huge and unexpected, blanketing the city in a cover of white in a matter of hours.  
Blaine and Kurt were caught out and about in it, on their way home from a night at the theater. By the  
time they left the subway at the stop nearest their apartment, there were already inches coating the  
ground, and thick flakes were still falling steadily from the dark sky. They turned the corner to their block,  
arms linked, huddled together for warmth. Their street was, for the first time since they had moved in,  
completely deserted. The cars were all still, lining the edges, and the sidewalks were free of people,  
nothing but fading footsteps in the snow to mark their earlier presence.  
"Eerie," Kurt remarked as they added their own footsteps to the mix.  
"Peaceful," Blaine supplied instead. "Quiet. Rare. Sleepy."  
"Eerie," Kurt repeated, unconvinced, and Blaine laughed, light and clear, and tugged Kurt sideways, until  
they were in the middle of the street. "Blaine, what-" Kurt asked, breathless and giggling.  
"Dance with me," Blaine said.  
"There’s no music." He looked around, feeling conspicuous out in the open, but there wasn’t a soul there to  
see them.  
"Then we’ll make our own." Blaine looked so young and carefree, all sugary sweetness in his expression,  
the silly beanie he still insisted on wearing every winter perched atop his head, white bits of snow clinging  
to his shoulders. Kurt couldn’t resist him, and they fell into step. Blaine sang, first "I Could Have Danced All  
Night," waltzing around in a wide, slippery circle, then "Twist and Shout," turning from side to side in  
Kurt’s arms, then "Gettin’ Jiggy With It," making Kurt break into peals of laughter. Eventually, he stopped  
singing altogether and nestled his head in Kurt’s shoulder, pressing their cold cheeks together as they  
simply swayed on the spot, two figures entwined in the snow.  
2021  
Kurt’s lovely night in alone- no extra-crazy pregnant version of Rachel to nag him or start crying   
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\- - 43 - -  
hysterically over nothing- was rudely interrupted by furious knocking at his door, just as he was about to  
sit down with a plate of rice pilaf and a movie. "I’m coming, I’m coming," he hollered, putting his dinner  
down and making his way to the foyer.  
He checked the peephole first. It revealed a haggard-looking Blaine. Startled, Kurt opened his door and  
asked, "Blaine? How did you get into the building?" He made a mental note to speak to his doorman about  
lax policies.  
Blaine mumbled something nonsensical in response- Kurt couldn’t understand him- and pushed his way  
into the apartment. "Come right in," Kurt said warily. He remembered what he had said to Blaine just a  
few weeks ago. If you’re ever not okay... but this didn’t seem to be the case. Blaine had found his way into  
the kitchen and was picking at Kurt’s rice pilaf, abandoned on the counter. "I wasn’t going to eat that or  
anything," Kurt said sarcastically, but Blaine grew bored with the food almost immediately and wandered  
into the living room.  
"Nice place," he said, observing the decor.  
"Um, thank you," Kurt replied. "I could give you a tour?" Blaine nodded, and Kurt guided him through the  
apartment, pausing at each room. When they reached the hallway leading off the living room, he said,  
"Rachel’s room, and mine," pointing at each open door facing one another.  
Blaine’s eyes lingered on Kurt’s room for a moment, sweeping over the bed, before nodding at the final  
door, closed at the end of the hallway. "And that one?"  
Kurt opened the door. Inside was a drafting table, pushed aside in one corner, and in a haphazard pile in  
the center of the room, a half-assembled crib, bags full of vintage baby clothes, cheerful toys, paint cans,  
and a rocking chair. "This used to be my studio," Kurt said, "but as you can see, it’s now baby central."  
Blaine blinked his glassy eyes. "Rachel’s having a baby?"  
"We’re having a baby. Rachel and I. I’m the father."  
Blaine ran a hand down his face, catching it on the stubble dotting his chin. "Jeez," he breathed. "Well fuck,  
congratulations, Kurt, I guess."  
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\- - 44 - -  
"It’s a girl."  
Blaine leaned against the doorframe heavily, blinking at the floor disbelievingly. "I never would have  
guessed. I mean, that’s something that-"  
"-you and I were going to do, yeah. Things don’t ever work out the way you expect them to, do they?"  
They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Kurt watched as Blaine’s eyes dropped to his lips. He flushed.  
"I’m engaged, too," he said quickly.  
Blaine started. "You’re joking."  
Kurt held up his hand to show Blaine the ring encircling his finger. "His name’s Emilio. We’ve been  
together for six months. I met him about a month after the baby was conceived. He’s wonderful."  
Blaine let out a long breath. "You weren’t kidding about that unexpected thing," he said.  
"What about you? Dating?"  
Blaine shrugged. "Sleeping with, more like. I’m living with Santana."  
"Get out," Kurt said, but Blaine nodded his confirmation. A long silence followed this, until Kurt finally  
decided to get to the point. "Blaine, what is this? Why are you here?" he asked.  
Blaine held his gaze for a minute. "Because you wanted me to be, I suppose," he said eventually. "Didn’t  
you?"  
"Are you high right now?" Kurt asked blatantly, and Blaine gaped, at a loss for words. Kurt went on. "I  
thought so. If you’re going to be a part of my life again, Blaine, you need to clean up your act. I’m not  
comfortable with you like this. And you aren’t going to be around my baby like this, when she’s born."  
Kurt could see the walls crashing down in front of Blaine’s eyes. "Who says I want to be a part of your life  
again?" he snarled, and pushed past Kurt, heading for the front door.  
"I’m sorry," Kurt called after him, following on his heels. "I thought that was implied when you showed up   
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\- - 45 - -  
on my doorstep!"  
"I don’t need you," Blaine said, wrenching open the door. "I don’t know why I even bothered." He turned  
flippantly and began to walk away down the hallway.  
"Because you need help, maybe? And you don’t know where else to go?"  
Blaine stopped, dead still, but didn’t turn around.  
"I know you’re not okay, Blaine," Kurt said to his back, and Blaine started to walk again, until he  
disappeared into the stairwell at the end of the hall, slamming the heavy metal door behind himself.  
January 2016  
Blaine stumbled into the apartment, giggling and clinging to the door for support. He slammed it behind  
himself, tripped over a pair of Rachel’s shoes sitting by the entryway, and lurched into the living room,  
still laughing at himself.  
Kurt was standing there in his pajamas, arms crossed, seething. Blaine’s laughter died in his throat. "It’s  
almost four in the morning, Blaine," Kurt said, clipped and barely controlled.  
"It is not," Blaine scoffed.  
Kurt pointed at the clock on the wall above the doorway to the kitchen. Blaine squinted at it. "I have been  
waiting up for you all night. I have an exam first thing in the morning. It’s my senior year, Blaine. I should  
be asleep, but instead here I am, worrying about you, as usual." Kurt clenched and unclenched his hands  
around his elbows.  
"So, stop worrying," Blaine said, his words slightly slurred. A few moments of silence later, he winced, as if  
he had just realized he said something wrong.  
"Stop worrying? It’s freezing out. Where’s your coat?" Kurt asked, his lips just a thin line.  
"Lost it. Stop worrying," Blaine repeated, stumbling his way over to Kurt and pulling his arms away from  
his chest. "Come on, babe," he said, leaning up to mouth at Kurt’s jaw. "We’re okay."  
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"You’re drunk, Blaine."  
"I miiiight be a liiiitle tipsy," Blaine said, dragging out the words as he traced the column of Kurt’s throat  
with his lips.  
"You never call me babe. You know I hate it. You’re drunk. This is what happens. You go out, you go to a  
party since you’re Mister Popular, or out to a club, you leave me behind, and you come back drunk off your  
ass and horny as fuck." He stepped back, away from Blaine.  
Blaine staggered a little, having lost the support of Kurt against his lips. "Nobody said you couldn’t come.  
Ha, get it, Kurt? Couldn’t come?"  
Kurt just stared at him for a minute. "How many guys did you flirt with tonight, Blaine?" he asked quietly.  
Blaine rolled his eyes. "Oh, nag, nag, nag."  
"What?"  
"You’re such a nag!"  
"Excuse me?" Kurt backed up another step.  
"Just because you don’t want to go out and have fun doesn’t mean I have to stay back too. Just because  
you’re a wet blanket." He waved his arms wildly to emphasize his point.  
"I’m sorry, I’m trying to be the responsible one here! How do you ever expect to finish your English degree  
if you stay out and drink all night, and not just on weekends? I don’t go out, because we’re not exactly  
rolling in dough, if you haven’t noticed, and partying and buying drinks is expensive, Blaine!"  
"Oh, and over-stuffing your closet with clothes you don’t even need isn’t? Our credit card is, like, almost  
maxed-out, and it’s pretty much your fault!"  
"I’m going into the fashion industry! I need to look the part."  
Blaine barked out a laugh. "Oh, please. You’re a shopaholic clothes-whore and you know it. Don’t give me   
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those excuses."  
"I’d rather be a clothes-whore than an actual whore, Blaine."  
"You have got to be kidding me."  
"I know what you’re like when you get drunk. It’s been like this since high school. I should have known  
then." Kurt shook his head bitterly, looking down at the carpet.  
"Kurt, I have never cheated on you! Just because I like to dance with guys, or look, or flirt, does not equal  
cheating! Stop acting so insecure!"  
"Stop giving me a reason to be insecure, Blaine!"  
"You’re such a princess, god."  
Kurt’s eyes flew up from the carpet, outraged. "Fucking prick," he whispered, meeting Blaine’s bleary,  
bloodshot eyes.  
Somewhere down the hall, Rachel’s door slammed. They both jumped and looked in the direction of the  
bedrooms, momentarily distracted. They had woken her up again, and by the sound of it, she wasn’t very  
happy.  
They turned back to each other, staring. "Shit," Blaine said eventually, breaking Kurt’s gaze to run a hand  
through his disheveled hair.  
"I think we need to take a break," Kurt said, still staring, a note of finality in his voice.


	7. 8

Chapter Eight  
2021  
Another week passed with no contact from Blaine. Kurt tried to focus on his work, lunches with Jamie and  
the entertaining stories of his many romantic conquests, and accompanying Rachel to a doctor’s  
appointment and parenting classes, but his mind kept wandering to Blaine. He had no way to call him or  
otherwise get in touch, short of cornering him at the club, and he was sure Blaine didn’t want to hear from  
him again at all, not after his impressive storm out of Kurt’s apartment. Emilio, predictably, told him to  
stop worrying, that if Blaine didn’t want his help he couldn’t force it on him. Rachel told him that it might  
be a good idea to track down Santana via Facebook, to at least keep an eye on Blaine, but Kurt felt like he’d  
be going behind Blaine’s back, forming secret contacts without his knowledge, and that would be a  
betrayal of the little trust Blaine had placed in him by reaching out, if only briefly. So he remained quietly  
distressed, debating options in his head and taking no action.  
It turned out that he didn’t have to take matters into his own hands, however. On Friday evening his  
phone buzzed with a text. It's Blaine. Need to talk. I’m sober. Kurt quickly typed back Come over, wavered  
between two precipices of indecision for a moment, then pursed his lips and hit the send button. Then he  
walked down the hall to the bathroom, where Emilio was getting ready for a drag show, pulling fishnets  
over his thick thighs. "Blaine’s coming over for a bit," Kurt told him, and caught his eyebrows raising. "Just  
before the show. He said he wants to talk to me." Emilio took a shimmering black mini dress off its hanger  
and pulled it on over the fishnets, remaining pointedly silent. "If you’re not comfortable with it, I can tell  
him to say whatever it is he has to say over the phone," Kurt offered.  
Emilio slipped the straps of the dress over his shoulders and turned his back to Kurt, facing the mirror.  
"It’s okay," he finally said, meeting Kurt’s eyes in the mirror. "I just didn’t like that you were alone here  
with him when he was under the influence. I don’t want anyone to hurt you, or try to take advantage of  
you, Kurt. At least I’m here this time."  
Kurt stepped forward and zipped up the back of the dress for Emilio, letting his hands linger before gently  
resting them at Emilio’s waist. "Thank you." He placed a kiss between Emilio’s shoulder blades. "I love  
you."  
"Love you too." The doorbell rang, and they both looked in its direction, as if they’d be able to see the front   
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door from the bathroom.  
"That was fast," Kurt muttered. "You’d better start on your makeup. I’ll be back in a minute to introduce  
you." He squeezed his fiance’s shoulders before stepping into the hall.  
"Can you help with my eyes?"  
"Sure. Just one minute." Kurt made his way to the foyer and swung the door open.  
Despite his claim of being sober, Blaine looked no less unkempt than he had a week ago. His face was still  
rough with days’ worth of stubble, his shirt was half-untucked, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His  
actual eyes, however, looked clear and present, Kurt noted. "Hi," Blaine said, an apologetic expression  
breaking over his features. For a moment he looked a bit like the Blaine that Kurt remembered.  
"Hey," Kurt replied, and let Blaine in. They stood awkwardly in the entryway before Blaine spoke again.  
"I, um, wanted to say sorry for the other day. I was high, and I know you were just trying to help."  
"Yeah."  
"I overreacted."  
"Yeah." Kurt didn’t really know what else to say, except to agree.  
Blaine cleared his throat. "It’s been a long time. You know, since I’ve had someone help me. I’m used to  
doing things on my own now, so when you said those things it was like you had read my mind, and I  
freaked out a little."  
Kurt felt a jolt of pity for his ex. "You don’t have to do things on your own. It’s okay to need help, Blaine."  
Blaine shuffled his feet. "And it was hard for me to see you so different," he continued, almost as if he  
hadn’t heard Kurt. "Engaged, having a baby, just doing so well, and I’m- well, I’m-" He couldn’t seem to  
finish.  
So Kurt finished for him. "You’re struggling."  
Emilio’s voice wafted out from the bathroom. "Kurt? I’m ready for my eyes."  
Blaine looked up, apparently surprised to find they weren’t alone in the apartment.  
"That’s my fiance," Kurt explained. "I’m helping him get ready for a show. Actually, you might remember  
him- he was the MC at your cabaret night. That’s why I was there."  
"The Latin queen in the red dress?" Blaine asked.  
"That’s the one. Would you like to meet him?"  
Blaine didn’t answer or nod, but scuffled along behind Kurt to the bathroom. Emilio hadn’t moved, but his  
face was half finished and he had added a wig of flowing black hair to his ensemble. "Sit down, and I’ll do  
your shadow first," Kurt told him, and Emilio sat on the closed toilet. "Emilio, this is Blaine." Blaine inched  
his way into the bathroom, hovering by the doorway, and nodded at Emilio. "Blaine, this is my fiance,  
Emilio Rodriguez. Or, as you might recognize him, Casta Nett."  
Emilio reached forward to shake Blaine’s hand, but couldn’t move, as Kurt was standing in the way,  
preparing to apply dark, shimmery shadow to his eyelids. Blaine clumsily stepped forward a few steps and  
they briefly clasped hands. "Close your eyes," Kurt instructed, and started covering Emilio’s tan skin in  
black powder.  
"Yes, I remember you from The Dark Room," Emilio said to Blaine. "Aren’t you working tonight? I’d  
imagine Friday night would be a prime opportunity for strippers." Kurt could feel him just barely tensing  
under his hands.  
Blaine shifted uncomfortably. "I called out."  
Kurt clicked the eyeshadow pallet closed and rifled through Emilio’s makeup case on the counter. "I think  
blue liner will set it off nicely. It’s a bit more unexpected than the standard black."  
"And lashes?" Emilio asked, fixing Kurt with his best puppy dog eyes.  
Kurt laughed fondly. "Well, we should have done them before the shadow, but sure, you can have your  
lashes. God knows they’re a pain to apply, with the glue and all, but I know you love the flair they give   
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your eyes." He leaned in and pecked Emilio on the lips. Blaine’s slight envious look went unnoticed.  
"Lipstick," Emilio warned.  
"Ooh, sorry, I forgot." Kurt turned to study himself in the mirror and laughed again, taking a tissue to dab  
at the spots of bright pink coloring his lips.  
"What’s the show tonight?" Blaine asked Emilio, voice a bit strained and stalled.  
"Hm?" Emilio turned from where he was gazing at Kurt in the mirror. "Oh, it’s just a small drag show.  
Typical showcase sort of thing."  
"I see. But don’t you think drag queens exemplify gay stereotypes?" Kurt shot Blaine an admonishing look  
over his shoulder before starting on Emilio’s eye liner.  
"Not any more than male strippers do, selling their bodies like that," Emilio replied. His voice was level,  
but Kurt knew him well enough to recognize the challenge behind his words.  
"I’m an exotic dancer, and it’s not selling your body. There’s a difference between prostitution and  
stripping." The high school version of Blaine would beg to differ, Kurt thought wryly.  
"Hardly," Emilio countered.  
"Okay!" Kurt interrupted, capping the eye liner. "Blaine, why don’t you wait in the living room while I  
finish up here? Feel free to help yourself to the T.V. or a magazine." He gave Blaine a pleading look, hoping  
he would back off before this turned into a full-blown argument.  
Kurt could see his jaw working, but he shrugged and said, "Okay," before slinking out of the bathroom.  
Kurt let out a breath of relief before diving back into Emilio’s make up kit for the fake lashes. He closed the  
door, not wanting Blaine to overhear what he was about to say.  
"Please, Emilio, don’t provoke him." Kurt applied the glue to the false lashes and pressed each onto  
Emilio’s eyelids.  
Emilio huffed out a laugh. "Don’t you see that’s exactly what he was trying to do? His jealousy is obvious."  
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Kurt patted Emilio’s neck, silently telling him it was okay to open his eyes now while continuing their  
conversation. "Why shouldn’t he be? This is the life he could have had, if we were still together. Instead,  
he’s living with one of our old friends from high school, sleeping around, and stripping for crack money.  
It’s like he’s not even the same person I used to know, and it makes me so sad for him."  
"Well, it’s his own fault. Bad choice after bad choice will do that. I don’t know what you ever saw in him,  
anyway. I can’t find anything admirable there."  
Kurt started to pack up the make up case. "He was different then," he said, removing jars of cosmetics  
from the counter and placing them back into the case.  
Emilio stood, running a hand down Kurt’s back. "You’re way too good for him, Kurt. Way too good for  
him."  
"It was before the drugs. Before the city."  
"Why you ever wasted your time, five years of your time, let me remind you, with a common drugaddicted whore-"  
Kurt snapped the make up case shut and stopped Emilio from speaking any further. "When you look at  
Blaine, you don’t see what I see. You see the circles under his eyes and the rumpled clothes and the  
stubborn off-putting personality. But I see past that. I see the light that’s missing in those eyes. I see the  
sixteen-year-old boy who wanted nothing more than for me to be proud of him." He took Emilio’s hand in  
his own and looked directly into his eyes. "Look. I love you. And you know that. But you will never  
understand, because you weren’t there. This is the boy who came into my life when I was at rock-bottom  
and saved me. And now I’m trying to do the same for him."  
Emilio sighed. "You’re not a hero, Kurt."  
Kurt dropped Emilio’s hand, stood a bit more stiffly for a moment, and walked away, leaving him to finish  
getting ready alone. Emilio didn’t come after him- he probably knew better than to chase after Kurt when  
he was upset with him.  
Blaine was slumped on the couch in the living room, television and magazines both untouched. "I think  
you should go," Kurt said quietly. "Emilio’s not very happy with you here."  
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\- - 53 - -  
Blaine didn’t move, still staring unseeingly at the coffee table. "I have a problem," he eventually said, voice  
softer than Kurt had heard it since re-meeting him. "I have a problem, and I don’t know how to fix it."  
"I know," Kurt said, voice just as soft. He wondered why arguing with Emilio had brought on this sudden  
revelation in Blaine. Was this the first time someone had confronted him with his own insecurities about  
what he was doing for a living?  
Blaine kept talking, as if he couldn’t stop, now that he had started. "A part of me doesn’t want to get better,  
because when I do I’ll be forced to figure out who I really am now," he said. "Without the drug addiction  
and stripping to hide behind." His openness was startling, considering how closed off he had been just a  
week ago.  
Kurt sat next to Blaine on the couch. "What about the other part of you?"  
"That part’s telling me to listen to you. To stop fucking around with my life. To stop bringing random  
strangers home, to get tested to make sure I’m not crawling with diseases. To get a real job. To kick the  
drugs. And to stop taking my anger with myself out on others, like what just happened back there." He put  
his head in his hands. Kurt just listened, afraid to speak and ruin the breakthrough. "But that other part of  
me, the one that doesn’t want to get better, is stronger," Blaine said through his hands, voice cracking. "I  
feel like such a failure in so many areas of my life."  
Kurt didn’t know what to do. He remained silent, and finally Blaine sniffed loudly and picked himself up  
off the couch, making his way to the door. Kurt didn’t want to let him leave on that note. "I haven’t given  
up on you yet," he said, extending the only gift he felt capable of giving Blaine at that moment.  
Blaine paused, nodded once, and swallowed thickly. Then he stepped into the hall and let the door click  
gently shut. Kurt sat on the couch and stared at the spot where Blaine had been standing until Emilio  
emerged from the bathroom, ready to go to the show.  
***  
Saturday morning Kurt woke to his doorbell ringing. He groaned and dragged himself to the door,  
replaying his disaster of an evening in his head- Blaine and Emilio’s little squabble, Kurt’s annoyance at  
Emilio not being able to understand, Blaine having a breakdown on his couch. Then a tense cab ride with  
his fiancé to a drag show, followed by Emilio’s less than stellar performance as Casta Nett, no doubt   
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\- - 54 - -  
influenced by Kurt’s icy demeanor toward him all night. Kurt’s cab ride home was solo, and he slept alone.  
Now, he groggily opened his door to see a vase of flowers sitting on the floor in the hallway outside his  
apartment. They were his favorite- purple irises- mixed with tall stalks of lavender, smelling like his  
mother’s perfume. Surprised, he picked up the vase and looked up and down the hallway, but it was  
empty. He carried the bouquet to his kitchen table, searching for a card tucked among the blooms. There  
was nothing there.  
His doorbell rang again, and Kurt left the flowers behind. This time it was Emilio, looking soft and sorry  
and morning fresh. Kurt put his arms around him and held him in the doorway. "Thank you," he said into  
Emilio’s ear.  
"For what?"  
Kurt pulled back, keeping his arms crossed behind Emilio’s neck. "You know what." He kissed Emilio  
softly, and murmured against his lips, "I’m sorry about last night."  
Emilio closed the tiny distance between them once more, just briefly. "Me too," he said, and they stepped  
into the apartment. "I got a little carried away."  
Kurt closed the door behind them. "It’s okay. You had a right to be upset. I took it too personally."  
"If Blaine means that much to you, I’ll try to be civil with him."  
"I don’t think he has anyone else to turn to."  
Emilio took Kurt’s hand, rubbing his thumb against the engagement ring resting there. "You really think  
you can help him?"  
Kurt bit his lip. "I don’t know. But I want to try."  
Emilio nodded, accepting. "Okay."  
February 2016  
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Rachel and Kurt sat on opposite ends of the couch, their legs tangled together in the middle as they shared  
a bowl of popcorn. On the television screen, Tony had just met Maria at the dance.  
Kurt felt his mind drifting to Blaine as his eyes glazed over, no longer paying any attention to the movie.  
He wondered how he was spending their first Valentine’s Day apart in four years. Kurt figured Blaine  
probably wasn’t moping around in his new apartment, painfully reliving the early days of their  
relationship by watching the movie version of their only successful high school musical production.  
Blaine had been the perfect Tony. Bright-eyed and ambitious, a little bit hardened from past experiences,  
but still soft around the edges. It was impossible to watch on-screen Tony singing "Something’s Coming"  
or "Tonight" without picturing Blaine, illuminated by the stage lights, the audience filling the McKinley  
High auditorium completely captured by his performance.  
"Kurt?" Rachel’s voice dragged him from the depths of his reminiscing as she snapped her phone closed.  
Apparently she had been texting.  
"Hmm?"  
"You’re not even looking at the screen, and it’s your favorite song."  
"Sorry." Kurt turned his face toward the television again, but Rachel continued to study him.  
"You miss him," she said plainly.  
Kurt looked at her, plastered on a smile despite the tears threatening at the corners of his eyes, and said,  
"It’s just strange to have Valentine’s Day without him, that’s all. Strange to be alone."  
"Is that why you suggested West Side Story?" She was too perceptive sometimes.  
"Maybe a rehashing of the Lonely Hearts Club was a bad idea," Kurt replied miserably, and Rachel reached  
for his hand over the popcorn bowl, squeezing tightly.  
***  
Blaine hadn’t gone out drinking or dancing once since his argument with Kurt, but he caved and drowned   
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his sorrows at the bar on Valentine’s Day. So much for his favorite holiday. It certainly lost its appeal when  
he didn’t have Kurt to share it with. If they weren’t in the middle of this stupid break, Blaine imagined,  
he’d have taken Kurt to Bryant Park for an ice-skating date, or they’d sample chocolates at Jacques Torres,  
or maybe just have a quiet candlelit dinner at home and cuddle while watching Breakfast at  
Tiffany’s or Casablanca.  
It had been almost a month, now. Surely he had to miss Blaine as much as Blaine missed him. And yet  
there had been no phone calls, no emails, not even a fleeting message left on his Facebook wall. Blaine  
wanted so badly to call Kurt, or to show up at the apartment, and apologize, but he was afraid Kurt  
wouldn’t take him back, afraid it would just drive Kurt further away. If there was one thing he could do to  
fix this, it was to give Kurt the space and time he needed to think things over.  
Blaine flipped open his phone and hastily sent a text to Rachel: "How is he?"  
Just a minute later, his phone lit up on the bar in front of him. Rachel’s response: "Okay."  
Okay. Blaine didn’t know what to make of that. Okay wasn’t fantastic, but it wasn’t terrible, either. Was it  
bad that he had hoped her reply would have been "depressed," or "desperate to have you back," or  
"wallowing in the pits of despair?" Okay wasn’t the type of answer he wanted to hear, he thought  
grimly. Okay meant that Kurt must be getting along just fine without him. Okay meant that Kurt didn’t  
need him anymore.  
Blaine downed the last of his drink and made his way to the center of the dance floor, pushing his way  
through the crowd until he found a clear space. He closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the motion  
as he danced, finding comfort as always in music. As he moved, relaxing into the growing buzz in his head,  
the beat pounded in his ears, the strobe lights flashed bright pulses against his closed eyes, and he swayed  
unsteadily. All thought drifted away; he was lost.  
Strong hands around his waist brought him crashing back to reality. "Blaine Anderson, you’re so studious  
in class I would never have guessed," a coy voice said in his ear.  
Blaine froze. His eyes flipped open. He knew that voice. It belonged to the cute graduate assistant he paid  
more attention to than the whiteboard in his American Lit class. "Grant?" he said, turning his head to get a  
look at the person behind him.  
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"You got that right," Grant confirmed, squeezing Blaine’s waist. "Look at you, all unraveled and wild. Such  
a difference from that innocent, buttoned-up boy who I catch staring at me when he’s supposed to be  
writing notes on The Great Gatsby."  
Blaine sucked in a breath as Grant started to nip at his neck. "You noticed that?"  
Grant hummed contentedly. "When I said studious I never said I was referring to Professor Vernon’s  
lectures, did I?" he purred. "I know you have a thing for me," he went on, moving closer, fusing his body  
against Blaine’s. "The way you always get flustered if I call on you to answer a question. The way blush  
like a little virgin if I smile at you. What do you say? Why don’t we do something about that?" He  
emphasized his point by grinding into Blaine’s ass.  
"I’m dating someone," Blaine answered, pushing back against Grant, his body responding without his  
mind’s permission. Shit.  
Grant growled. "Oh yeah? Why hasn’t he come to your rescue, then?" His mouth moved to the corner of  
Blaine’s jaw, sharply sucking.  
"We’re taking a break," Blaine managed, voice breathy. Grant’s hands playing with the waistband of his  
pants were making him tingle all over, and he was finding it hard to concentrate.  
"Then you’re not dating anyone at the moment." The tingles were punctuated with a harsh pang with  
those words. Blaine reached behind himself, grabbed Grant’s hips, and ground back forcefully into the  
hard line of his cock. Grant groaned, and they started to move together. "I knew you wanted it," he heard  
murmured against his ear, as a hand snaked around to cup him through his pants.  
Blaine felt himself losing control. This isn’t right, some part of him warned meekly, and another part,  
darker and more primal, countered But it feels so good. Grant’s lips were everywhere: on Blaine’s  
shoulder, his cheek, his own lips as Blaine craned his neck backwards, Grant’s tongue darting in between  
to lick into his mouth. Blaine felt dirty and guilty at that, and he pulled his face away, looking forward  
again as he and Grant continued to grind. Did this constitute cheating? Was it cheating if he and Kurt  
weren’t technically together right now?  
"Come home we me," Grant panted, still rubbing firmly at Blaine’s fly. At Blaine’s hesitation, he added, "It’s  
Valentine’s Day. We all deserve a little love. Why not?"  
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Because I know what "come home with me" really means, and where that leads.  
Because I’ll regret it.  
Because the last thing I need is to screw this up more.  
Because: what would Kurt say?  
"Okay," Blaine said, his stomach sinking ominously, and Grant led him to the door.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Nine  
2021  
Rachel came up with the idea for everyone to get reacquainted at a nearby club’s Midsummer Masquerade party, and one by one, they all grudgingly agreed. She and Kurt arrived first and secured a table, Rachel as Mother Nature in her green dress and crown of leaves, her prominent stomach protruding in front of her, and Kurt as a butterfly catcher in a safari jacket and hat, carrying a net, waiting for his butterfly to arrive.  
He ordered two drinks at the bar- gin for himself and a Shirley Temple for Rachel- and took a seat at the table.  
"Oh, look! There’s Santana," Rachel said, waving across the club at her. "And she doesn’t look a day over twenty, that bitch."  
Kurt eyed Rachel and wondered fleetingly if it was a particularly hormonal day, with such offhanded name calling. "Of course she doesn’t," he said, spotting Santana crossing the dance floor to join them. She was wearing a slinky red dress and devil’s horns, and was accompanied by a petite girl with a turquoisestreaked, platinum blond pixie cut, in a corresponding angel outfit. "Santana," he said when they approached. "I can’t say I’m surprised at the costume choice."  
"Hummel, you manage to make even a khaki jacket and run of the mill work boots look fashionable," she replied, a sly smile snaking across her face. "Berry," she added, turning to Rachel, "who would’ve thought that you’d manage to get knocked up by someone other than Frankenteen?"  
"And who would have thought you’d end up with someone other than Brittany?" Rachel replied, indicating the girl in the angel costume beside Santana. Kurt couldn’t quite figure out if this back-and-forth was good natured or some sort of underhanded snark the girls were aiming at each other.  
"Well, yes, it’s been two happy years with my dear Penelope," Santana said, turning overly gooey eyes on  
her girlfriend, who rolled her eyes. "People should model their relationship after ours, because we kick ass  
at it."  
"I prefer to go by Pixie," the petite blond said. "Hi. You’re old high school friends of Santana’s?" She had a  
faint Southern drawl when she spoke.  
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"We were all in glee club together," Rachel said, nodding.  
"Are those Blaine’s?" Kurt asked, recognizing the wings Pixie was wearing as part of her angel costume.  
"Yeah. I may have snuck them out of his bedroom when I stopped by to get ready for tonight."  
"Where is he, anyway?" Santana asked, looking around. "Oh, there he is. Over here, Frodo!"  
Kurt followed Santana’s gaze and felt his heart skip a beat. Edging his way around the crowd moving to  
the beat was a boy in a prep school uniform; sharp black shoes, gray slacks, and a blue blazer with red  
accents. His hair was gelled back, he was clean-shaven, and if it weren’t for the bright pink drink in his  
hand, he’d look like he had just stepped out of the Dalton Academy common room. Kurt suddenly found  
himself transported to elegant tapestry-paneled walls, reverent halls with harmonious voices resounding  
off the marble and glass, and a sweet, soulful young man smiling warmly at him as he sang...  
Rachel’s voice broke him out of his reverie. "How original, Blaine. I can’t believe you actually dragged that  
all the way to New York, and still have it." Kurt blinked. Blaine had taken a seat next to Pixie, leaving one  
empty seat between himself and Kurt. Up close, he looked back to normal- or what was now his normal  
self- twenty-seven, slightly too thin and too jittery.  
"Good to see you too, Rachel. Congratulations on the baby," Blaine replied, perfectly polite and polished, as  
if wearing the Dalton uniform had reverted him to that over-confident boy of sixteen in his head. Kurt  
knew that version of Blaine wasn’t really himself- had never been, in fact. It was the persona he used to  
hide his insecurities, to put on a brave face when he was really choking underneath it all.  
"Hi," Kurt said to him. "All right?" He tried to sound casual, like he was just exchanging pleasantries, but he  
knew Blaine would understand. Blaine would know that Kurt could see through his demeanor, was  
asking all right, but it meant are you sure you’re okay, because you’re caving in on yourself and I know  
something’s wrong when you get like that.  
Blaine nodded stiffly, forcing a closed-mouth smile. "Your fiance’s here," he said, eyes lifting to watch  
someone approaching behind Kurt.  
In marched Emilio, dressed as a butterfly in a gold mesh tank top and tight black shorts. He had a pair of  
oversized monarch wings attached to his back, a headband with affixed feelers on his head, and had   
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wound sparkly gold tulle around his arms and legs. "Wow," Santana commented. "Kurt managed to find  
the one guy in this town gayer than he is."  
"Hey- there are plenty of men in New York City who qualify as gayer than me," Kurt retorted. "Lysander,  
for one. And Jamie."  
"Like I know who they are. Point is, your boy toy is the gayest I’ve seen, and that’s saying something,  
considering I used to sit in the choir room side-eyeing your fashion choices every day."  
"Emilio, this is Santana. You’ll get used to her, trust me."  
Emilio took the last remaining seat at the table and smiled genially at Santana. "Pleasure’s mine."  
"I meant that as a compliment," Santana said, taking a sip of her drink. "From one homo to another."  
"I’m surprised you didn’t come in drag tonight, Emilio," Rachel interjected.  
Emilio ignored Santana’s "he might as well be" to reply, "I don’t need to be Casta Nett all the time, Rachel.  
Subtlety, you know." He motioned to Kurt’s net.  
"Puns," Kurt added. "He insisted."  
The whole table was quiet for a moment, observing their surroundings. An announcement came over the  
loudspeaker, cutting into the song currently playing, to state that there would soon be karaoke for a  
portion of the evening. This was met by general boos and grumbling. A second announcement hastily  
added that the karaoke would be followed by more time for dancing afterwards. "So Pixie," Rachel began,  
and everyone turned her, eager for a conversation starter, "how did you and Santana meet?"  
Five pairs of eyes swivelled to focus on Pixie. "Well, I came to the city from small-town Tennessee when I  
was twenty-four- I’m twenty-six now- when I got offered a modeling contract." Kurt noticed for the first  
time how pretty she was under all the heavy black make up when she said this. She had delicate features,  
large, deep blue eyes, and a rosebud mouth. "I met Santana shortly thereafter," Pixie continued. "I was  
young and stupid, so I stole a pair of diamond earrings from a jewelry store."  
"As you do," Santana cut in.  
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"As you do, when you’re stupid and young. Why don’t you finish telling it?"  
Santana picked up the story. "I was her defense attorney. There was a lack of evidence in the case because  
there was no surveillance footage- ironically, the cameras were still in need of repair from a previous  
robbery. So I managed to get her off-"  
"In more ways than one!" Pixie joked.  
The table erupted in laughter. "I remember that," Blaine said when it had died down. "I came back from  
the club around five in the morning and there was Pixie, topless, in her underwear, making coffee in the  
kitchen."  
"I had an early morning shoot."  
"The first thing she said to me when I walked in was, ‘Don’t tell me she has a boyfriend she conveniently  
forgot to mention.’" More laughter, and Blaine smiled shyly, pleased at their reaction, as someone over on  
the dance floor started singing a horrible version of Celine Dion’s "My Heart Will Go On" and was  
immediately booed.  
"Then I hit it big with some controversial ads," Pixie continued. "I suppose most people who don’t know  
me think I’m some big-shot model, when really I don’t know what I’m doing here half the time. I’m actually  
some hick skateboarder chick from a ho-dunk town in the Tennessee woods. But I’m trying to make the  
city-chic model thing stick."  
"You’re doing just fine, baby," Santana said, surprisingly tender.  
"I guess I was either pretty brave or pretty foolish to come here the way I did. Foolish, ‘Tana would  
probably say!"  
"And thank goodness for your foolishness, or else I’d still be all on my own."  
After everyone had appropriately sighed wistfully at Santana and Pixie’s cuteness, Rachel downed the last  
of her Shirley Temple and said, "Alright, enough of that. Let’s go get our karaoke on! I have a fantastic  
rendition of ‘Memory’ from Cats and no proper Broadway stage to showcase it on, thanks to Toast here."  
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Kurt groaned, but stood. He caught Pixie mouthing "Toast?" to Santana and her shrug in response before  
he was dragged halfway onto the floor. "Santana, Blaine, you’re not getting out of this either," Rachel  
called. "Come sing with Kurt and I, for old time’s sake! Mr. Schue would be so proud."  
Santana reluctantly joined them. Pixie headed in the direction of the bar, muttering about refilling her  
drink. "Blaine?" Kurt asked, noticing that he was still planted firmly in his seat at the table.  
"No, thanks. I think I’ll stay here and get acquainted with your fiance."  
"C’mon, you’re in the right outfit for it, aren’t you?" Blaine just shook his head, and Kurt scoffed. "But you  
love to sing- you were a music minor in college, for God’s sake."  
"Just let it go, Kurt!" Blaine finally snapped. "I never feel like singing anymore, okay?"  
Kurt did as he was told and let it go. He met Santana and Rachel up near the front of the crowd, where  
they were paging through the book of song choices. Santana glanced over at him wryly. "You’re fighting a  
losing battle there," she said. When Kurt just gave her a questioning look in response, she added, "With  
Blaine. I haven’t heard a note since he moved in."  
***  
Back at the table, Blaine and Emilio were forced to endure stilted small talk, tinged with the echoes of  
their last interaction, until Emilio finally got down to the nitty-gritty. "So, you and Kurt were together for a  
long time, I hear."  
Blaine raised his eyebrows. "Five years," he confirmed.  
"And it was pretty serious?"  
"Yeah. We thought we were soulmates. We were going to get married, buy a house with a big backyard in  
the suburbs, adopt kids, all that shit. Luckily for you, it didn’t work out. Young love is pretty stupid, when  
you get down to it."  
Emilio leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Look," he started, and Blaine fixed him with a teenagerish you’ve got to be kidding me expression, "I know he wants to reestablish some sort of friendship with   
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you, and I respect that. He’s a very good person, I’m sure you know- always going out of his way to help  
others. So, I’ll play nice if you will."  
Blaine tossed back the last of his drink. "Agreed," he said, and headed to the bar.  
February 2016  
Kurt woke up tangled in a pile of blankets, Rachel’s legs, and bits of popcorn. His phone was ringing. Kurt  
looked crossed-eyed at the caller ID and blearily made out the word "Lysander."  
"Tell them to go away," Rachel’s voice mumbled sleepily from somewhere within the mound of blankets.  
"Hello?" Kurt croaked, pressing the button to accept the call.  
"Kurt, my best and loveliest customer! Ciao!"  
Lysander’s voice was entirely too loud and enthusiastic for nine in the morning on a Saturday. "Is there  
something you wanted to tell me, Ly, or are you just calling to torture me?"  
"You should stop by the shop today. We just got a new piece in that’s right up your alley. I’m holding it in  
the back, just for you."  
Kurt curled further into the blankets, pressing the phone between his ear and the couch. "I’ll see if I can  
make it," he replied.  
"Okay, a presto, Kurt! Ciao!"  
Kurt clumsily untangled himself, pulling half the blankets off the couch and littering popcorn kernels all  
over the floor. He tucked Rachel back in and padded to the bathroom so he could get ready to leave. By  
eleven, he was freshly showered, shaved, clothed, and fed, and he left a note for his still-snoring roommate  
on the kitchen counter before shutting and locking the apartment door behind him.  
Two subway rides later, he was striding purposefully down the sidewalk to his favorite store in the  
entirety of New York City, Giordano’s Unique Vintage. Before Kurt had even slipped off his sunglassesbefore the bell over the door had even stopped tinkling- Lysander, the owner, burst out from the back   
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room in a flurry of movement. "Ciao, Kurt, ciao!" he called, his baby-pink silk scarf fluttering in his wake.  
"Well?" he asked, gliding to a stop just in front of Kurt. "What do you think? Am I right or am I right?"  
Lysander was holding an impeccable fur coat on a hanger in an outstretched hand, waiting for Kurt’s  
approval. He couldn’t deny it was gorgeous; pristine white blending to a sleek golden tan at the bottom.  
"Eh, winter’s not quite over yet, you can still get some use out of it this season, and you know fur doesn’t  
go out of style," Lysander continued, pulling out all his business tactics.  
Kurt took the hanger from Lysander and turned the coat around in his hand, feeling the luxurious  
material. "Fox? Authentic?" he asked.  
"Fox," confirmed Lysander, waving his scarf lazily. "Quite a high-quality piece."  
"Oh, Lysander, it’s beautiful- how much is it?" It almost pained Kurt to ask.  
Lysander let go of the scarf with a flourish, hands on hips, twiddling his fingers as he considered a price.  
"Nine fifty, but for you, just seven hundred," he finally said matter-of-factly.  
There was no way Kurt could swing that. He sucked in a breath and swallowed. "Can you imagine what  
Blaine would say if I spent that much on a coat? That’s half a month’s rent," he countered, still eyeing the  
coat with interest.  
"Blaine doesn’t have to know. It’s worth it, right?" It was like Lysander was challenging him to confirm the  
quality of his merchandise.  
Kurt shook his head slowly and Lysander’s eyes widened comically. "No, it is," Kurt said, placating him,  
"but you don’t understand- our credit card is in Blaine’s name. We share it, but it’s his, technically. We  
already have a balance on it, and, well- things aren’t exactly going so well with Blaine and I right now. So I  
really shouldn’t be putting anything on that card."  
Lysander made a sound of sympathy in the back of his throat. "I’m sorry to hear that. You are my absolute  
favorite couple, you know."  
"Hm." Kurt frowned. "Not to mention Rachel would subject me to a tirade on all the poor animals who  
gave their lives in the name of fashion." His phone rang in his pocket. "Sorry," Kurt said, pulling it out of   
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his pocket with his free hand. He looked at the ID. It was Alison, his partner for an upcoming project for  
his History of Fashion III class. "I should probably take this."  
"Si, si," Lysander said, waving his hands and scurrying away to assist another customer.  
Kurt juggled with his phone and the coat, finally hanging the coat on a nearby rack. "Hey, Alison. What’s  
up? Did you get some more research done?" He inspected the coat for any damage, paying more attention  
to it than to Alison.  
"Hi, Kurt. I’m actually not calling about the project."  
"Oh, really?" he asked, raising his eyebrows minutely. Alison was so meticulous and driven that she rarely  
called him for anything outside of class work  
"Yeah. You see, I was out at that bar on Seventeenth last night for Valentine’s Day-" Kurt’s eyebrows raised  
even higher; he could not imagine Alison of all people at a gay bar- "and I don’t know if I should be telling  
you this, but I saw Blaine there. With someone else."  
"Why am I not surprised?" Kurt asked, vague anger starting to bubble below his skin. "Flirting, I  
presume?"  
"More than flirting," Alison said. If Kurt’s eyebrows raised any further they’d merge with his hairline. "It  
was Grant," she added.  
"The graduate assistant for his American Lit class?" Kurt vaguely recalled that Alison had met Grant at the  
same time he had: in passing, when they once had to trek to Blaine’s campus and interrupt his lecture to  
retrieve Kurt’s sketchbook, left behind at the apartment after a rushed morning.  
"That’s the one. Anyway, they had their hands and lips all over each other. I saw them leave together. Just  
thought you might like to know."  
Kurt unclenched his teeth. "Thanks, Alison," he bit out before ending the call. Shoving his phone back into  
his pocket, he balled his hands into fists, seething with anger.  
He stood there for a moment, boiling, before realizing he was still in a public place. Taking a few deep   
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breaths, Kurt whipped the fur coat from the rack he had placed it on and gave it one long, last look. It was  
perfect.  
"Lysander?" he called. "I’ll take it. Put it on my card."  
2021  
After the karaoke- which Kurt had spent keeping one eye on Emilio and Blaine- when the pounding dance  
music started pumping through the speakers again, Kurt joined Blaine and Pixie at the bar. "Glad that’s  
over and done with," he said to them. "Rachel started weeping when they didn’t have ‘Memory’ in their  
playlist."  
"Pregnancy hormones, huh?" Pixie replied. "Bet you can’t wait for that baby to make it’s arrival."  
"Oh no, she’s always like that," Kurt said. "But you’re right, the pregnancy certainly doesn’t help. She sent  
me out for three different kinds of hummus yesterday, and then yelled at me because she forgot to make  
latkes to spread the hummus on. Latkes. Does that even make sense with hummus? No. The pita bread she  
normally uses would not do. It’s not even close to Hanukkah, and she had to have latkes! Thankfully, we  
only have about three months of this insanity to go."  
"Nice job on the karaoke," Blaine said. "Your voice still sounds great. You can still hit the high notes."  
"You heard? I don’t know, it wasn’t my best."  
"Well, nothing compares to your ‘Blackbird;’ it’ll always be my favorite, but Mika’s ‘Grace Kelly’ is a good  
choice for you."  
They both flushed at the same moment, remembering a second too late exactly why ‘Blackbird’ was  
Blaine’s favorite, and looked away from one another. "Thanks," Kurt said.  
He was saved from further embarrassment by his fiance. Emilio and Santana emerged from the crowd,  
where they had been dancing together. Santana wrapped her arms around Pixie’s waist and rocked her  
from side to side, and Emilio shimmied up to Kurt, looser and less buttoned-up that usual, now that the  
alcohol had settled into his system. He had a devious smile on his face, and pried Kurt’s arms from their  
position folded across his chest. "Come and dance with me, babe," he slurred, pulling him towards the   
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dance floor.  
Kurt removed his safari jacket first, revealing a plain white tank top underneath. "Hold this for me, will  
you?" he asked Pixie. Then he reluctantly let himself be dragged away, just registering Blaine mutter, "I  
thought he hated being called babe," as he was engulfed by the crowd.  
***  
It was a sexy, grinding dance. Blaine watched from the sidelines, cradling his drink and observing the way  
Kurt sunk backwards into Emilio’s body, pressing his back to his chest, aligning their hips, the effortless  
way they fit together and moved like they had been born to do so. It was nothing like the dorkiness of  
Blaine’s club dancing, the few times he had managed to convince Kurt to join him in it- all popped hips,  
childish twirls, and tangling feet. No, this was smooth, seductive, adult. Blaine had been holding Kurt back  
from his true potential. He watched as Kurt reached up and behind himself to weave his hands through  
Emilio’s hair, his pale arms elongated and muscular. Emilio leaned down to kiss at his shoulder, hands  
resting low on Kurt’s hips, and Blaine swallowed the last of his drink. He reached into the pocket of his  
blazer, wrapped his hand around the small bag of cocaine there, and headed for the bathroom.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Ten  
2021  
Kurt saw Blaine enter the bathroom from his place on the dance floor, his hand scrabbling in his pocket as  
he pushed the door open and disappeared behind it. Kurt kept his eyes trained in that direction, and when  
Blaine hadn’t returned four songs later, he deposited Emilio at the bar with the girls, told them, "I’m just  
going to check on him," and fought his way through the crowd.  
The bathroom was grungy, cracked mirrors and overflowing trash cans, and Kurt wrinkled his nose as he  
stepped inside, his feet sticking to the floor. He spotted Blaine’s shiny shoes under one of the stalls and  
gently pushed at the door. It swung open easily- Blaine must have forgotten to lock it in his haste. Inside,  
Blaine was crouched over the dirty toilet, holding a hand to his nose as he sniffled, bits of white powder  
remaining behind on the seat as evidence of what he had just done. For a moment, Kurt was incredibly  
disturbed at the image presented to him- seemingly sixteen-year-old Blaine, in full Dalton uniform, doing  
lines off a toilet seat. But he pushed aside the nausea churning in his abdomen as Blaine looked at him.  
He didn’t shrink from the disappointed expression on Kurt’s face. He just met his eyes and stared back,  
tired and resigned. Kurt knew then, seeing the stark acceptance of fate in Blaine’s eyes, the fight and fire  
absolutely gone, that this was something Blaine couldn’t merely choose to step away from. It had  
consumed him.  
Kurt stepped forward wordlessly, the stall door falling shut behind him, and embraced Blaine. Blaine  
stiffened in his arms, as if he had expected something else- a reprimand, a slap, a battle- and then  
collapsed, his whole body turning to jelly. After a minute, he lifted his arms to cling tightly to the back of  
Kurt’s tank top, a note of desperation in his movement, and Kurt wondered when someone had last held  
him.  
March 2016  
Kurt had just finished washing the last pan from dinner when he heard a knock at his door. "Did you  
forget something again?" he called, drying his hands. He walked to the foyer of the apartment, continuing,  
"Rachel, you’ve got to start remembering your keys when you go to rehearsal." He flipped the dishtowel  
over his shoulder and opened the door, wearing his best glower of disapproval.  
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It wasn’t Rachel. Standing in the hallway, bathed in the cheap florescent lights, was none other than the  
boy who had occupied ninety-nine percent of Kurt’s thoughts since the age of sixteen. His hair was wild  
and free of product, his face was coated in a layer of stubble, and his clothes were slightly wrinkled, but  
when he looked up from the floor, he met Kurt’s eyes with the familiar liquid amber of his own. Kurt’s  
stomach gave an involuntary flutter, and he cursed it silently.  
"Blaine," he said, his voice coming out more surprised than he had hoped.  
"Kurt." Blaine shuffled his feet awkwardly, and spoke to the carpet. "Can you let me in? Please?"  
"Why should I?"  
Blaine glanced up at him from underneath his eyelashes, looking like a kicked puppy. "Just, come on, Kurt.  
It’s our fifth anniversary. Please."  
He was right. Rachel had been treating Kurt delicately all day, as if he would explode if it was brought up,  
but little to her knowledge, it had been on Kurt’s mind since the moment he woke. He sighed, feeling pity  
for Blaine despite knowing better. Damn those puppy eyes, he thought- they got him every time. Kurt  
moved aside to clear the doorway for Blaine to step through. Blaine looked up again, caution and disbelief  
flashing for a moment in his eyes, before stepping over the threshold.  
Kurt closed the door behind him and made his way back toward the kitchen. "Do you want something to  
drink? Wine? It’s still out from dinner."  
"That would be nice. Thanks." They were talking far too courteously for Kurt’s tastes. They were talking  
like they didn’t have five years of history and intimacy, built from nothing, together. Kurt hated it. He took  
the dishtowel from his shoulder and hung it to dry before pouring two glasses of red wine.  
Blaine had followed him into the kitchen, waiting nervously just a step or two into the room. Kurt turned  
and handed him one of the glasses. He took a sip of his own, leaning against the counter, and said, "Why  
are you here, Blaine?"  
"It’s our fifth anniversary," he repeated.  
Kurt snorted bitterly. "If you can call it that. We’re as good as done, aren’t we?"  
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Blaine swirled the wine in his glass. He hadn’t drunk any yet. "We’re taking a break," he said eventually,  
locking eyes with Kurt, as if to emphasize his point. He set his glass on the kitchen table and stepped into  
the room, leaning against the counter opposite Kurt.  
"And what if I told you we’re done with the break? That we’re done for good?" Kurt asked.  
Blaine didn’t directly respond. "I miss you," he said instead, the words falling heavily into the air. "I miss  
you, and I’ve been a wreck without you, god, Kurt, you have no idea how much I need you."  
"Sure I do," Kurt said, taking a large swig of his wine. "You miss me so much, you need me so much, that  
when I’m not around you go out to the clubs and kiss other guys. Sounds to me like you’re doing perfectly  
okay without me." He downed the last of the wine. "You haven’t changed at all, have you?"  
"What do you mean?" Blaine asked.  
"Do I have to spell it out for you? Grant. One of my friends saw you with him at the club on Valentine’s Day,  
Blaine!"  
"Grant? Grant was nothing."  
"Oh, please. You’ve been fawning over him for months. Don’t think I didn’t notice."  
"I’m telling you, Kurt, that meant nothing. Valentine’s Day- nothing." Blaine ran his hands through his  
already messy hair.  
"Just tell me. Is it true?"  
Blaine paused. "Okay, Kurt, I know honesty has always been so important in our relationship, and I don’t  
want to abuse that-"  
"Just tell me, Blaine!"  
"We slept together."  
The words of confirmation seemed to ring in the air, like a slap, sudden and stinging. Kurt’s breath left him   
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in a rush as his stomach twisted into something dark and nauseating. He looked away sharply, eyes  
finding the ugly painting Rachel had put up above the kitchen table.  
"Look, Kurt, please don’t be too furious with me. I’m so, so sorry, and it was only because I missed you, it  
didn’t mean anything to me whatsoever-"  
He snapped his head back to Blaine. "Oh, you missed me, so you slept with someone else. That’s not  
missing me, Blaine, that’s missing what I can give you."  
"It’s not about sex! Okay, with Grant it was about sex, but not with you. Never with you. I could never  
reduce you to that, please Kurt, you know we have so much more than that."  
"How can you honestly expect me not to be mad at you? You gave away the one part of you that belonged  
to me completely."  
They stared at each other for a moment, on a precipice. Then Blaine said softly, "You still have that part of  
me, Kurt. It’s still yours. I’m still yours. One empty, meaningless fuck isn’t going to change that."  
Kurt shook his head. "This whole month- more than a month, without you, and I didn’t do anything. I  
didn’t even look at anyone."  
"Fine. Be angry. Go on. Get mad!"  
"I am mad! I missed you too, Blaine! I missed you, too."  
Blaine suddenly surged forward, pulling Kurt in by the neck, and pressed their lips together fiercely. Kurt,  
shocked, brought his hands up to Blaine’s chest instinctively, intending to push him away, but Blaine  
deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt grabbed fistfuls of Blaine’s shirt and  
wrestled for dominance, but gave in as he was pushed against the counter. He had Blaine’s scent in his  
nose, Blaine’s taste on his tongue, Blaine’s hands in his hair, and it was too much. He opened his mouth, let  
Blaine in further, until they were both gasping for breath.  
Parting, they stepped back from one another, Kurt running his hands down Blaine’s chest and smoothing  
out the wrinkles in his shirt before sinking heavily against the counter. Blaine mirrored Kurt, staring at  
him with lust-blown eyes and kiss-stained lips. "God dammit, Blaine," Kurt said in between heaving   
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breaths. "I can’t even look at you like that. I can’t look at you knowing that someone else has touched you,  
in the way only I’m supposed to."  
Blaine dragged himself upright and reached for one of Kurt’s hands. "Then touch me," he said. "Make me  
yours again, Kurt. Make me completely yours." He leaned forward, resting his chin on Kurt’s shoulder, still  
clinging to his hand.  
***  
They had sex in the kitchen that night, roughly, up against the counters. Kurt bent Blaine over the cheap  
Formica counter top and pounded his anger into him relentlessly, as Blaine clenched onto the handles of  
the upper cabinets with white knuckles, keeping up a constant stream of shameless moans. Blaine came  
first, with a shudder and a piercing yelp, and Kurt kept thrusting another eight, nine, ten, eleven times,  
knowing it was too much for Blaine as he whimpered feebly below him. But Kurt wanted him to take it,  
until he finally gave in to his orgasm and collapsed, feeling himself filling Blaine, claiming him as his own  
again.  
***  
Morning dawned and Kurt was alone in his bed, the empty sheets rumpled beside him. He started when he  
remembered the events of last night and realized that Blaine was no longer beside him. Kurt got out of  
bed, pulling on a t-shirt and Blaine’s boxers as he went.  
Blaine was sitting at the kitchen table in just his jeans from the previous night, his coffee steaming in front  
of him, as he went through a stack of his mail, left behind when he had moved out of the apartment in  
January to stay with friends. There were raw, pink scratches down one side of his back and a smattering of  
dark purple bruises, enraged and teeth-marked, blossoming at the opposite shoulder. Kurt didn’t know if  
Blaine knew they were there, but he stared at the marks and thought, I did that, feeling a strange mingled  
sense of pride, power, and disgust. At the counter was Rachel, fluffy pink bathrobe and all, adding sugar to  
her coffee at the exact spot where Blaine had spilled his come all over the Formica. Kurt flushed as the  
contrasting images flashed through his mind, the disgust overwhelming the pride and power for the  
moment.  
Rachel took one look at him and said, "Well. Someone had sex last night." Kurt felt his face growing even  
hotter. "Or, should I say, someone had sex with someone else last night, and they’re both in this room, and   
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neither of them are me," she added for good measure as she took her coffee back to her bedroom.  
"Thanks for pointing that out, Rachel. I wouldn’t have known, otherwise," Blaine called over his shoulder,  
unable to resist getting in the last word.  
"Hi," Kurt said to Blaine, suddenly shy.  
"Hi. Are we okay?"  
Kurt sat down, taking the seat adjacent to Blaine’s side of table rather than opposite it. "I don’t know," he  
said honestly.  
"We’re... doing better, at least, right?" Blaine asked, concerned.  
"I think so."  
"Okay. Good, then. Coffee?" He nudged his mug toward Kurt.  
Kurt took a sip, grimaced, and pushed it back. "Too black," he said, standing up. "I’ll make my own."  
Blaine continued to sort his mail as Kurt stirred cream and sugar into his mug. Something close to content  
silence fell over them, almost as if they hadn’t just spent nearly two months separate from one another, as  
they each worked at their tasks. Then Kurt heard Blaine’s confused voice say, "Kurt, what is this?" behind  
his back.  
"What?" he asked, tapping the spoon against his mug and bringing his now perfectly brewed coffee to the  
table.  
Blaine was frowning at an official-looking paper unfolded on top of the pile of envelopes in front of him.  
"Our credit card statement for this month," he said. "Why is there a seven hundred dollar charge on it  
from February fifteenth?"  
"Shit." He had completely forgotten.  
"Kurt?" Blaine’s expression was killing him. He was looking up at him so innocently bewildered that it   
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made Kurt dread what he was about to tell him.  
"Um. I may have bought a coat."  
Blaine’s brow furrowed. "You bought a coat," he repeated, still vaguely dazed.  
"So, don’t take this personally, but after I found out about the Grant thing I was mad, so I did that. Bought  
that. To get back at you. And I’m sorry, I should have mentioned it last night while we were fighting, but I  
forgot."  
Blaine’s eyes darted back down to the statement. "Don’t take it personally? You just conveniently forgot to  
mention a seven hundred dollar credit card purchase?"  
"I didn’t think about it last night! I was so wrapped up in you showing up out of nowhere and working out  
what happened with Grant, and then you were kissing me, and then it was too late."  
"We don’t have that kind of money just lying around, Kurt! How did you expect to pay for this?"  
And there was the clincher. "Well, see, that was kind of the point. I didn’t." Kurt watched the steam rising  
from his mug of coffee.  
"So what, you were just going to let me figure out what you had done and pay for it myself, because the  
card is in my name?"  
Kurt was silent, which as good as confirmed Blaine’s suspicions.  
"Jesus," Blaine said. "You know, this is exactly the sort of thing that made us take a break in the first place.  
And you accuse me of not having changed. Obviously, you didn’t change either."  
"What are you talking about? What sort of thing made us take a break?"  
"Your spending habits!"  
"No, your drinking and partying and flirting, and more, I might add, is what led to the break."  
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Blaine grabbed a handful of his curls, exasperated. "I can’t believe you. You completely violated my trust  
with this. Those are our funds, to save and spend together. Not yours to just do whatever you please with."  
"What about you violating my trust, Blaine? That’s what you did when you slept with Grant."  
Blaine stood up, scraping his chair behind him on the linoleum, and started to pace the kitchen. "Will you  
stop bringing up Grant already?"  
"No, I won’t!" At that, Blaine threw up his hands and stalked into the living room. Kurt followed. "We made  
a promise to each other. That’s why we wear these things." He held up his hand to display a silver band on  
his ring finger. "Did you fuck him with it on, Blaine?"  
Blaine turned, his expression sour. "Don’t, Kurt." He found his shirt from last night, hanging over the back  
of the couch, and threw it on.  
"Or did you take it off, put it in your pocket so you didn’t have to look at it and feel ashamed?"  
"How about you, huh?" Blaine asked, whirling on Kurt. "I bet you didn’t even think about it when you  
bought that coat. I never should have given you that stupid ring."  
They stared each other down for a moment. "Fine, then," Kurt said. "You can have it back." He wrenched  
the ring off his finger and threw it squarely into Blaine’s chest. It clattered to the floor between them. "You  
can have it," Kurt repeated. "Because I won’t be needing it anymore. We’re done."  
Blaine’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly. "Come on. You don’t mean that."  
"Get out of my apartment."  
"Kurt."  
"I said get out!"  
Blaine bent to pick up the ring. He stood, eyes flicking between Kurt’s icy blue stare and the ring in his  
palm, before nodding minutely. "Alright," he said, eerily quiet. "You want to be done? We’re done. It’s  
over." He strode over to the door and slammed it loudly behind him on his way out, not looking back once.  
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2021  
Kurt returned to the bar by himself, brushing one stray tear away quickly before it fell down his cheek. He  
composed himself before rejoining the group, who were all laughing merrily. When they saw him  
approaching, however, they stopped and watched him. "Was he..." Rachel started, trailing off into silence.  
Kurt nodded, looking at his feet sourly. He turned to Santana. "Why haven’t you done anything? He’s been  
living with you for what- four, five years now? You have to have known."  
"Kurt," she said. For once, she seemed to be at a loss for words.  
"Santana’s tried," Pixie said quietly. It was hard to hear her over the raging music. "I’ve tried. There’s only  
so much we can do. Telling him to quit, taking the drugs away from him- it doesn’t get through. He comes  
up with an excuse, or he finds a way to get more."  
"He has to want it for himself," Santana finally said. "We can try and convince him all we want, but he has  
to want it for himself."  
"So you’re just going to give up on him?" Kurt cried, aghast. "He does want to stop. I know he does. He’s  
told me nearly as much. But he can’t do it on his own."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Eleven  
2021  
Kurt sat on the floor of his living room, magazines and an overflowing binder of receipts, lists, and plans  
spread out like a solar system around him. Rachel was out with her friends Jackie and Evan for the  
evening, and Kurt had a glass of wine resting on the coffee table beside him and his laptop on his thighs,  
hours-deep into wedding website after wedding website. He was currently paging through ideas on  
creating his own favors for the guests, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth and a pencil tucked  
behind his ear as he combed the internet for tips. He had long abandoned the other two tabs he had  
opened- information on cocaine addiction and recovery and the weekly "your baby’s growth" newsletter  
he had received from the birthing center.  
Just when Kurt thought he had finally understood the surprisingly complicated process of selecting the  
perfect ribbon and style of bow for tying up the favor boxes, he was scared out of his wits by a solitary  
loud bang at the door. "Dammit," he muttered, dabbing at the splashes of wine that had dropped onto his  
shirt when he had jumped. He slid his laptop onto the floor and cautiously crept to the door. No sound had  
followed the initial dull slam, and after so many years in the city, he was wary of any strange happenings  
beyond his apartment.  
Before he could put an eye to the peephole to see if the coast was clear, a severely distressed voice floated  
through to him. "Kurt. Please." It was Blaine, of course- who else would show up at nearly ten in the  
evening, on a weekday, unannounced? But his voice sounded so thick and gravelly and drained, so unBlaine-like, that Kurt quickened his step and unlocked his door.  
Blaine tumbled forward into Kurt’s chest- he had been leaning on the door with his eyes closed when Kurt  
flung it open. "Whoa, whoa, okay," Kurt said, catching him clumsily as the breath was knocked out of his  
lungs.  
Blaine straightened up, holding onto Kurt’s elbows for balance. "I thought you weren’t going to be home,  
when you didn’t answer right away," he said. "And I really- I really need you right now."  
Kurt’s heart clenched at those words, and he took in Blaine’s appearance with a more critical eye. He  
looked no more disheveled than usual- meaning, he looked as if he had literally just rolled out of bed after  
a sleepless night and ran all the way to Kurt’s apartment. But he was certainly acting as if something had   
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gone terribly, incredibly wrong.  
When Kurt didn’t speak up immediately, Blaine took it upon himself to fill the silence, speaking with selfconscious hesitancy. "You said if I’m ever not okay..."  
"No, no. I mean, yes. Of course."  
"I think I’m going through withdrawal." The words were like a heavy blow to Kurt’s chest. He rapidly  
flicked through his mind for information on cocaine withdrawal from the site he had been reading earlier.  
Depression. Agitation or paranoia. Lack of many physical symptoms, unlike most other drugs. Fatigue.  
Intense cravings for the drug. Blaine had just plunged into the deep end, and he was about to drag Kurt  
down with him. Neither of them knew what lurked at the dark bottom of the pool.  
"Withdrawal," Kurt repeated, some time after he had gotten his head screwed back on properly. "Okay.  
Okay. How long has it been?"  
"I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn’t think it would be this bad. I went a day or two without it  
before, like when I was in jail-" Kurt shot him a quizzical look- "but never like this."  
"Blaine, how long has it been?" Kurt repeated, trying his very best to remain calm.  
"I don’t know. A few days. Three or four, maybe." Kurt exhaled slowly through his nose and Blaine moved  
to slump heavily onto the couch. "I need it, I need it so bad," he said, voice cracking. "You don’t know what  
it’s like- I’m going to go crazy if I don’t get some, like, now. Please, don’t let me. I have to stop."  
Kurt kneeled down on the floor before Blaine, placing a hand on his knee. "I won’t let you," he said, and  
watched as Blaine’s eyes slowly dropped closed with relief. "What made you decide to stop all of the  
sudden?" he asked gently.  
Blaine’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t open his eyes. "Have you ever just... wished you were someone  
else? Because that’s what it’s like. I don’t want to be me anymore."  
"I do," Kurt said, and Blaine’s eyes fluttered open in surprise. "I want you to be you. But this- this isn’t the  
Blaine I know."  
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Blaine sighed. "I feel so good when I’m on it, Kurt- I feel so happy with myself, with who I am, and this- this  
is torture, this is the worst I’ve ever felt. Here, take this from me, take this." He reached into the pocket of  
his sweatshirt and pulled out a small bag of cocaine, shoving it into Kurt’s hand.  
Kurt stared, wide-eyed, at the drugs. "I don’t know if you should be stopping cold-turkey like this. I don’t  
know what the effects are."  
"No, I have to. I have to." Blaine ran a hand through his hair, breathing hard with frustration.  
"Maybe we should go to the hospital. You’re really starting to scare me," Kurt said.  
"Can’t. I don’t have insurance. No way I can afford that." Blaine’s unsettled eyes roamed the room. "I hate  
myself like this," he whispered.  
"But you just said it makes you feel happy-"  
"Not when I’m not on it!" His fists slammed the couch cushions. "When I crash I know I’m not a good  
person. The coke makes me better. But when I stop it’s reality. And I’m ruining my life. That’s why I have  
to quit." His head drooped and he frowned down at his heaving chest.  
Kurt dropped the bag of cocaine on the floor and reached to take Blaine’s hands, uncurling each fist. Blaine  
grudgingly held on. "You are a good person, Blaine. Please don’t beat yourself up. You may not be yourself  
right now, but you are a good person- you just took a wrong turn."  
Blaine shook his head, biting his lip and staring over Kurt’s shoulder. "Just flush it, please. Before I change  
my mind."  
Kurt picked up the drugs and stood. "This is it, right? You don’t have any more?"  
"That’s it." Kurt took the bag to the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet. When he returned to the  
living room, Blaine was standing at the edge of the mess Kurt had spread across the floor earlier. "What’s  
this?" he asked.  
"Wedding planning."  
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"Care to distract me?" Blaine settled himself on the floor and flipped through one of the magazines. He  
looked up at Kurt, who hadn’t moved. "Please. The last thing I want to do is discuss coke right now."  
Kurt sat down in the bare space at the center of the pile. "Well, it’s going to be December tenth, about one  
month after the baby’s due. At the Crowne Plaza. We’re taking pictures in Times Square first." Kurt handed  
Blaine a pamphlet for the hotel.  
"Looks nice."  
"I’m still working on the little details, but we’ve got the basics covered. The ceremony is going to be at  
sunset, with views over Manhattan, and then the reception is a sit-down dinner in one of the ballrooms.  
Elegant and refined, that’s the general feel we’re going with."  
"Sounds like everything you’ve ever wanted."  
Kurt smiled. They both fell silent, looking at the explosion of wedding-related items spread over the floor.  
"Remember when we used to daydream about what our wedding was going to be like?" Kurt said. It was  
only the second time either of them had mentioned anything about their relationship since they had remet, and when Blaine didn’t respond straightaway Kurt worried it was still too much of a touchy subject.  
But then Blaine replied, "Yeah. This is pretty close to your vision, isn’t it?" and Kurt quietly sighed in relief.  
"Even then, you always wanted something formal and sophisticated. I would have been happy with  
something small and simple."  
Kurt picked up some ribbon lying in the pile and tested out one of the new bows he had taught himself,  
tying it around his binder. It fell flat, and he untied it to try again. Blaine watched for a minute, and then  
said, "I, um, it’s silly to say this now, but..." and trailed into silence.  
Kurt pulled the ends of the ribbon taut. "Yes?"  
"I almost asked you at the end of your senior year at McKinley." The ribbon suddenly jerked in Kurt’s  
hands, the bow unraveling. Blaine didn’t seem to notice, and he continued speaking, eyes focused on the  
hotel pamphlet still in his lap. "I thought we could have eloped at city hall here at the end of the summer,  
when I went to see you off to college. But I backed out, because I thought we were so young and it was  
crazy to want that. I mean, I would have still been in high school, and married.And I figured you would   
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have wanted something grander, when we had more money."  
Kurt let the ribbon fall from his hands as he gazed at Blaine. It was so strange that in the five years Kurt  
had spent as Blaine’s boyfriend, Blaine had never revealed this failed plan to him, not even during their  
conversations about their potential future marriage. As he contemplated this, Kurt realized he hadn’t  
replied yet and that Blaine was probably feeling embarrassed about his confession. "That’s not silly," he  
said gently. "I would have been okay with that. Eloping." Blaine gave him a doubting look, as if to say oh,  
really, then. "But yeah," Kurt added, "things would be... yeah. I’d have been divorced at twenty-three."  
"Maybe," Blaine said. He hadn’t taken his eyes from Kurt’s, holding a steady gaze for the first time in Kurt’s  
recent memory, but he left the rest unsaid. Kurt knew what he was thinking, though. Maybe not. Maybe if  
we had been married things would be different.  
Kurt cleared his throat. "How are you feeling now?" he asked.  
Blaine blinked and broke the stare. "Still lousy."  
"Maybe you should go to bed. Try and sleep through it."  
"You know, now that you said that, I am feeling pretty tired." He stood up, the pamphlet falling from his  
lap to the floor. "I guess I’ll go home, try to get some rest."  
Kurt stood up as well. "No. You’re sleeping here. I don’t trust you to be by yourself right now."  
"Kurt, no, I don’t want to impose-"  
"You’re not imposing," Kurt insisted, taking hold of Blaine’s shoulders and leading him toward his  
bedroom. "I’d feel better about it if you were here, where I can watch over you." Kurt opened his dresser  
and rifled through his clothing until he found a pair of sweat pants that rarely saw daylight and an old tshirt. "You can have these to sleep in," he said, handing them to Blaine. "I should have a spare toothbrush  
in the bathroom." Kurt heard the front door open as he spoke. Rachel had returned from her night out. "Go  
ahead and change and get yourself settled. I’ll be back in a few minutes," Kurt said, and hurriedly made his  
way back to the living room.  
Rachel was struggling at the door with a few shopping bags. Kurt took them for her and put them on the   
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coffee table. "How are Jackie and Evan?" he asked.  
"Fine," she replied. "I heard you talking to someone. Is Emilio staying over tonight?"  
"No, it’s Blaine."  
"At eleven-thirty at night?" She rubbed her stomach absently, looking the very definition of a soon-to-be  
mother.  
"Is it that late already? God." He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "He came over because he’s going  
through withdrawal."  
"Now?"  
"Shh! Yeah, apparently he hasn’t used in a few days. I know he thinks he can get through it on his own, but  
he was freaking me out when he first got here. He refused to go to the hospital. I managed to calm him  
down for a bit, and now I’m just going to put him to bed and hope he sleeps through it for a while."  
Rachel tilted her head to the side. "I don’t know, Kurt. I feel really uneasy doing this without a medical  
professional."  
"Then don’t get involved. You need your rest, too- and so does Toast. We managed to conceive her without  
a medical professional. How much harder can this be?" Rachel still looked nervous. "Look," he said,  
attempting to appease her, "if it gets to the point where I can’t handle it anymore, I’ll make him go to the  
hospital." It seemed to work, because although she narrowed her eyes at him, she nodded curtly and  
wandered into the kitchen.  
Kurt returned to his bedroom and knocked on the door. "You all set?" he said, pushing the door open  
slowly. Blaine was standing at the far side of the bed in the clothes Kurt had given him with a dubious  
expression on his face. "What’s the problem?" Kurt asked, stepping into the room.  
"You want me to sleep here? I can use the couch. It’s no trouble."  
"You can use my bed. It’s more comfortable." When Blaine didn’t move, he added, "Go on, get in," and  
Blaine hesitantly turned down the covers and settled in, pulling just the sheet back up to his chin. "Good?"   
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Kurt asked. Blaine nodded at him, and Kurt flipped the light switch on the wall and retreated into the hall.  
He had almost closed the door completely behind him when he heard Blaine softly call, "Kurt?"  
"Yeah?" he said, cracking open the door again.  
"Stay with me?" In the light from the hall Blaine looked small and frightened.  
"Okay. Until you fall asleep." Kurt crossed the room and rounded the bed, kneeling on the carpet. He  
picked up the edge of the comforter, folded over Blaine’s feet, and dragged it up to his shoulders. The  
action reminded Kurt of a similar evening- dumping a very wasted and very much friends-only Blaine into  
his bed after Rachel’s disastrous party years ago.  
"Thank you," Blaine sighed, visibly relieved.  
"Close your eyes."  
"I’m so sleepy."  
"I know. Close your eyes. Drift away. You’re safe."  
It took hours. Despite his tiredness, Blaine tossed and turned and stayed awake. Kurt vaguely recalled that  
one of the effects of cocaine withdrawal he had read about was insomnia, and he understood then that just  
because Blaine wanted to fall asleep, it didn’t mean he would actually be able to do that. So Kurt stayed by  
Blaine’s side, holding his hand as he kicked off the covers, pulled them back over his body again, turned on  
his side toward Kurt, turned away from Kurt, yawned, rubbed his eyes, and kicked off the covers yet again.  
At one point Kurt started to sing softly, almost under his breath. I am in misery. There ain’t nobody who can  
comfort me, which made Blaine smile, just barely. But by the time he had gotten to I’m desperate and  
confused, so far away from you, a couple of tears trickled out of the corners of Blaine’s eyes and down into  
the pillow. Kurt stopped singing and tightened his grip on Blaine’s hand. "Shh," he soothed, smoothing the  
curls away from Blaine’s forehead with his other hand. "We’re going to get through this."  
"I’m sorry," Blaine gasped, eyes clenched shut. "I’m sorry, Kurt, I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry-"  
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"Shh." Kurt cradled Blaine’s cheeks, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. He didn’t know what Blaine  
was apologizing for. For crying, not being able to sleep, coming back into his life, turning to him to help  
with his withdrawal, breaking up with him five years ago- whatever it was, it didn’t matter. "It’s okay.  
Don’t you worry."  
Blaine shuddered under Kurt’s hands and choked out dry hiccuping sobs. After a while, they subsided and  
eventually stopped completely. When Blaine’s breathing finally slowed with sleep, Kurt ran his hands  
through his curls one last time, tiptoed around the bed, and carefully slid in beside him. His exhaustion  
took over almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
March 2016  
Kurt spent the majority of the day curled up in his bed, still in Blaine’s boxers, alternating between  
sleeping and crying. Rachel came in around four in the afternoon, offering tissues and sympathy. "I have to  
leave for rehearsal now, but I made dinner. It’s in the fridge if you want something to eat," she said,  
leaning down to place a kiss on Kurt’s forehead. "I’m so sorry, Kurt," she added carefully. "I really thought  
you guys would make it. I was practically counting down the days until I could be the maid of honor at  
your wedding." Rachel stroked his hair a few times before turning to leave. "Call me if you need anything,"  
she said over her shoulder.  
"You’ll always be my maid of honor," Kurt said as she reached the bedroom door.  
She smiled at him. "Thanks, Kurt," she replied, shutting the door softly behind her.  
After Kurt heard Rachel leave, he drifted back to sleep for a bit, finally hauled himself out of bed for a long  
shower, changed into his pajamas, and tentatively sampled the dinner Rachel had prepared for him before  
deciding he didn’t have any appetite. He sat on the couch in the living room and stared blankly at the  
television for almost an hour before he realized it wasn’t even turned on. Kurt picked up the remote,  
considered it, and reached for his cell phone instead.  
"Hey, kiddo, what’s up?" The familiar, comforting voice filled his ears, and before he could even get a word  
out, Kurt’s eyes were wet with tears.  
"Dad..." he choked out, trying to keep his voice even.  
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"Kurt? What is it? What happened?" His father, Burt, caught on immediately, knowing his son too well.  
"Blaine and I broke up," Kurt confessed, his voice a wreck already. A tear slipped out of his eye and he  
hastily brushed it away.  
"I thought you two were just taking a break," Burt said edgily.  
"No, we were, but then he came over last night, and... I thought things were going to get better. But they  
didn’t, we just ended up fighting, and I kicked him out, and he said it’s over."  
Burt’s sigh was audible over the line. "I gotta admit, I don’t really know what to say, Kurt. I never expected  
to have to take a call like this."  
"Yeah, well, I never expected to break up with him, either." Kurt kept dabbing at his face with a tissue,  
catching each tear before it fell too far.  
"You and Blaine, you’ve been together for so long, I just kind of figured it was forever, you know? I mean, I  
was skeptical back when you were in high school, because those things never seem to work out, but here  
we are in your senior year and last time I saw you two together it was like you were living in one of those  
sappy chick flick romantic comedies Carole makes me watch."  
Kurt sniffled loudly to cover up the sob that was threatening to escape from his throat. "I miss him so  
much already. God, I hate that, Dad. I was just getting used to not having him around, with the break, and  
now it’s like I’m back at square one."  
Burt’s voice was tired. "You’re gonna miss him for a while. That’s how these things go. You’ll have to give it  
time, Kurt."  
"I shouldn’t feel like this. I was the one who threw him out. I was the one who told him I didn’t want his  
promise ring anymore."  
"You’re still mourning the relationship, though. It just happened, what, yesterday?"  
"This morning."  
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Burt was silent for a moment. Kurt knew he was working it out in his head that if Blaine had come over  
the previous night, they must have slept together before breaking up this morning. He squirmed a bit  
before Burt continued, "I know it’s not exactly the same thing, but when your mother died I was the same  
way. It took me a long, long time to stop thinking about it constantly. And I still miss her, even though I  
have Carole now. I’m not saying you’re going to miss Blaine forever, because again-"  
"Different situation."  
"Right. But it’s not like a light switch. It’s not like it happens and then you’re automatically ready to move  
on. It’s going to take a while."  
"I know. Thanks, Dad." Kurt crumpled his tissue into a ball, the tears having slowed.  
"Any time, Kurt. Hey, is Rachel there?"  
"She’s at rehearsal." He looked up at the clock hanging above the entry to the kitchen. "She’ll be back soon,  
though."  
"Good," Burt said. "I know she’ll take good care of you for me."  
Kurt rolled his eyes. "As long as she’s not too involved in herself at the moment. You know how she gets."  
Then he remembered how gentle she had been with him earlier and felt a twinge of guilt.  
"Just hang in there, okay?" Burt cleared his throat. "I have to go- got some paperwork for the shop to catch  
up on- but I’ll call you tomorrow. Go to sleep early, make sure you eat something first, though- knowing  
you, you probably haven’t eaten anything all day. Listen, I promise it’ll get better."  
"Okay. I love you, Dad."  
"I love you too, buddy."  
2021  
Kurt woke and was immediately struck by the coldness radiating from Blaine’s side of the bed. It was still  
dark out. He couldn’t have been asleep more than two hours. He could hear someone shuffling around   
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behind him, and he rolled over toward the other, now empty, side of the bed.  
Blaine was crouched on the floor, the light from the street lamp streaming through the window and  
illuminating him. On the bedside table in front of Blaine was an open plastic bag and a line of white  
powder cutting sharply through the darkness of the wood. Kurt partially rose, holding himself up with one  
arm. Cold dread was shooting through his veins. He knew he really shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet  
he was, even alarmed. He had been so hopeful that Blaine had been approaching a breakthrough, and the  
sight facing him only dismayed him. "Blaine, no," he said, voice still tinged with sleep.  
Blaine jumped and dropped the rolled-up dollar bill in his hands, falling backwards against the wall. He  
hadn’t even noticed Kurt watching him. Now, caught, he stared at Kurt with wide eyes. "I tried," he said,  
stricken.  
"I thought you didn’t have any more on you," Kurt said, sliding over to the other side of the bed.  
"I lied to you." Blaine put his face in his hands, shamed. His voice came muffled through his fingers. "I had  
to make sure I had some, just in case."  
"Blaine... we were so close."  
"It hurts, Kurt. The craving. It hurts so bad." Blaine was trembling as he cowered against the wall. "And  
you know me, you know I’m not a liar; Kurt, this isn’t me. This is what it does to me."  
Kurt looked at Blaine, broken, beaten, absolutely devastated and wrecked, possibly beyond repair, and  
pushed his disappointment aside. "Come here, Sunshine," he said softly.  
Blaine looked up through his fingers, blinking rapidly, perhaps to prevent himself from crying again,  
perhaps in surprise at Kurt’s use of his old pet name for him. His eyes were a storm of self-hatred. He  
shoved himself away from the wall, crawled the two feet to the bed, and kneeled at Kurt’s feet, his  
movements timid and uncertain. "I’m never going to get better, am I?" he asked, craning his neck up to  
look Kurt in the eye.  
Kurt reached down and picked up the dollar bill where it had scattered at the edge of the bed. He carefully  
rolled it into a tube and held it out to Blaine, who plucked it from his hand, sad disbelief written all over  
his features. Blaine turned, stared at the line of coke on the night stand for a moment, and leaned forward.   
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Kurt combed his fingers through Blaine’s hair as he inhaled the drug, watching with a pained expression.  
Then he guided Blaine’s head to lay in his lap, fingers still massaging the nape of his neck. "I’m getting rid  
of the rest of this," he said, quietly forceful. "Then we’re going to the hospital."  
Blaine brought a hand up to rub at his nose. "I told you, I can’t afford it."  
"I’ll talk to Rachel and Santana. And I’ve been saving up some money for my first line; I can dip into that."  
The hand dropped. "Kurt, I couldn’t possibly-"  
"Blaine, your health is a million times more important to me than a hypothetical fashion show. We’re  
going to get you some help. I promise."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Twelve  
March 2016  
Blaine entered his apartment in a haze, clutching Kurt’s promise ring in his fist, and was greeted by the  
raucous cheers of his three roommates. "Out all night?" Dan asked smugly.  
"That’s my boy!" Harrison shouted.  
"Bet you got some," Alex added, as if it weren’t already painfully obvious what they were all celebrating.  
"So, who was it, man?" Harrison asked, steering Blaine toward the shabby card table where they were all  
eating breakfast. "That Grant guy again?"  
Blaine shook his head, falling into the remaining empty chair.  
Dan raised his eyebrows. "Kurt?"  
Alex crunched on an apple, Harrison propped his feet up on the corner of the table, and Blaine quietly said,  
"Yeah."  
"Praise the Lord!" Alex said around his mouthful of apple.  
"Awesome. Now you can move back in with him and stop taking over the sofa."  
"Harrison!" Dan scolded.  
"Sorry, man," Harrison apologized, throwing an unconvincing look in Blaine’s direction. "But it’s prime  
space. I’ve had to watch all my shows on my laptop for like the past six weeks."  
"And I’ve had to wash all your dishes for the past three years, but you don’t hear me complaining," Dan  
said sternly.  
"That’s because I clean the toilet, and you know that’s just gross. Every time I do that, it’s worth, like, a  
whole stack of plates, at least."  
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"We broke up," Blaine interjected suddenly.  
It was the first time he found all three of them completely at a loss for words at the same time. Then Alex  
slowly lowered his half-eaten apple to the table and said, "What?"  
"We broke up," Blaine repeated dully.  
"You and Kurt?" Dan asked.  
"No, Blaine and his half-alien, half-vampire lover," Harrison spat. "Of course Blaine and Kurt, numbnuts."  
"But you guys were golden."  
"Yeah, green-lit for marriage, practically," Alex said.  
Blaine shrugged. "Apparently not." He struggled to keep his voice calm, palm sweating around the ring  
still clutched there.  
"So let me get this straight," Harrison said. "He fucked you, then dumped you?"  
Another shrug.  
"What an ass."  
"Even Harrison knows you just don’t do that," Dan said.  
"Want me to beat him up for you?" Alex asked, and Harrison snorted. "What?" Alex said, indignant.  
"You’re even smaller than Blaine is, and you think you can beat someone up?"  
"Want to find out?"  
"Okay now, boys," Dan interrupted, sounding like the mother of teenage twins trying to smooth things  
over before they got too out of hand. "Can we bring the focus back to Blaine?"  
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Harrison stood up, gathering the remains of his breakfast. "I say forget him. Dude can go screw himself.  
Now I have to get to my stupid Ethical Issues in Writing class. If I miss another one, the prof’s gonna flip  
her shit." He grabbed the backpack hanging off the back of his chair and left.  
"Want me to beat him up?" Alex repeated. "He’s pretty skinny. I can take him."  
"Alex, I forbid you to go anywhere near Kurt. The last thing Blaine needs is a lawsuit," Dan answered for  
Blaine. "Even though Harrison’s right, there’s no way you’d do much damage." He ignored Alex’s annoyed  
"hey!" and turned to Blaine. "I think we should just give it some time. He might come around." He started  
to clear the remaining plates. "By the way, you’re late for class."  
"I don’t think I’m going," Blaine replied, twisting Kurt’s promise ring in his fingers.  
2021  
After the hospital, Blaine went to a rehab facility. When he returned, the leaves were starting to change on  
the trees lining the streets of Manhattan, Rachel had reached the home stretch of her pregnancy with just  
a month remaining until Toast’s imminent arrival, and Kurt and Emilio’s wedding was coming together  
under Kurt’s skillful hand. As per his doctor’s orders, Blaine started going to therapy regularly, took his  
antidepressant medication as directed, and joined a twelve step program. He called Tony, the owner of  
The Dark Room, and told him that he could no longer work for him, focusing instead on his landscaping  
job. He spent time with Santana and Pixie, and Kurt and Rachel, reforming damaged relationships and  
learning to live again.  
"I know you’re still recovering," Kurt told him one day, as they sat reminiscing over Rachel’s dads’ old  
videos of their glee performances. "But I want you to know that I’m so proud of you, and how far you’ve  
already come."  
Blaine looked down at his hands, averting his eyes. "I still crave it. I still feel like I need it, like I won’t be  
able to get by if I don’t have it," he admitted.  
"I know," Kurt said. Quinn and Sam twirled around the television stage, but neither of them were paying  
attention any longer.  
"You know?"  
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Kurt paused the video, and the New Directions all froze in the middle of Tina’s "ABC" solo. "I can tell,  
sometimes, that you’re thinking about it, or craving it," he explained. "I don’t think the others notice, but I  
can see it. Just in your eyes, or the way you seem to go somewhere else, some alternate state or dream  
place. I try to distract you, when I notice you’re getting like that. I try to get your mind away from it."  
Blaine rested his head on Kurt’s shoulder. "I’m tired. It’s so much harder than I expected. I thought by this  
time I’d be so much further along, you know? I just want to be myself again."  
"Hey, now," Kurt said gently, laying his head on top of Blaine’s. "It’s a process, and it’s not easy. I  
understand that. But I know you’re strong, Blaine. You’re so much stronger than the addiction. You  
already survived it, and you survived the gaybashing, and you survived rock bottom. You’re getting better,  
and as long as you keep climbing that ladder, one day you will be yourself again."  
"If you hadn’t come back into my life..."  
"I don’t want to think about that. Let’s just focus on the here and now, okay?" Kurt hit a button on the  
remote, and the New Directions resumed singing and dancing for an enthusiastic crowd.  
***  
Kurt was still sitting on the couch by the time the sun set. Blaine had fallen asleep, slumped against Kurt’s  
side, before they had even finished with the glee club videos. Now, a mindless reality show was playing in  
the background as Kurt absentmindedly traced patterns over Blaine’s knee, gazing at his features,  
distorted as they pressed into Kurt’s arm, but peaceful with slumber all the same. Blaine’s eyelids  
fluttered, dreams flickering to the surface, and he mumbled something incoherent before sighing  
contentedly and snuggling further into Kurt.  
Kurt smiled fondly. He could smell Blaine’s shampoo, the same brand he remembered from five years ago,  
and underneath that, a scent he recognized with striking familiarity as simply Blaine. It brought  
something buried deep within Kurt to the surface, something hovering on the edge of clarity, that he  
couldn’t quite grasp yet. He indulged himself, leaning over to nestle his nose in the mess of Blaine’s curly  
brown hair, and breathed in the sweet fragrance.  
Then he jumped when the door suddenly swung open, jostling Blaine awake in the process. "Wha...?  
Kurt?" he said, sitting up properly and rubbing at his squinted eyes.  
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Kurt’s fiancé was standing at the door, setting his briefcase down slowly. Kurt could see suspicion in his  
eyes as he stared at the two of them and was suddenly struck with cold dread. "Emilio!" he exclaimed. "Oh  
gosh, is it six thirty already?"  
"You remembered I was coming over, right?"  
"Yes, yes. I’m so sorry, I should have started dinner already, but we- we fell asleep." He suddenly became  
aware that his hand was still stroking Blaine’s knee and he snatched it away as if he had been burned,  
standing up a split second later. He could feel a flush creeping up his neck and walked purposefully  
toward the kitchen, hoping that Emilio hadn’t noticed. Kurt busied himself with taking ingredients out of  
the fridge and cabinets, frustrated with himself for acting so strangely and no doubt causing Emilio to  
have even more suspicion. We weren’t doing anything; there’s nothing to feel guilty over, he reminded  
himself. He could hear the words in his own scolding tone in his head, and they did little to pacify him.  
"Hello, Blaine," he heard Emilio say in the living room. "Staying for dinner?" Kurt could make out the  
frosty tone in his fiance’s voice and knew then that he hadn’t hidden his behavior as well as he had hoped.  
"Oh, no, I don’t want to make more work-" Blaine sounded flustered.  
"It’s no trouble at all," Emilio interrupted. "Stay." The clipped footsteps of his dress shoes approached the  
kitchen.  
"If you insist," Blaine said.  
"Please," Emilio said, his restrained voice much closer now. Kurt looked up from the onion he was peeling  
to see him walking into the kitchen, loosening his tie. "Do you want any help with dinner?" he asked.  
There was an unpleasant, barely-there bite to his words and expression. Kurt felt like a child caught  
sneaking dessert before finishing his vegetables.  
"No, you’ve had enough work for one day," Kurt said, putting the onion down on the cutting board to kiss  
Emilio on the cheek. "I’ll be okay. You just relax."  
Before long, the kitchen was buzzing and the atmosphere was considerably less tense, with Blaine helping  
Kurt at the stove and Rachel handling small tasks at the table, across from Emilio, who was reading a book  
and contributing to the conversation from time to time. On the menu was a Mexican dish involving black   
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beans, corn, and rice- vegan of course, though Kurt was sure Emilio and Blaine would add in some of the  
leftover chicken he had in the fridge.  
As Rachel worked on dicing the tomatoes and chopping the cilantro, chatting with Emilio about the novel  
he was engrossed in, Kurt and Blaine stood side-by-side while they stirred their pots of rice and sauce. It  
was all so comfortably domestic, the hustle and bustle of their little near-family. Kurt had a sudden vision  
of his daughter, age ten or eleven, as a part of this mix- maybe with her own cutting board beside Rachel at  
the table, maybe standing on a step-stool or held up by Kurt at the stove. It gave him a tiny thrill to know  
that it wasn’t just a possibility anymore; it was guaranteed. Within a matter of years, he could be teaching  
his daughter to make this very same meal.  
Filled with giddy anticipation, Kurt scooped up a clump of rice that had fallen to the stove top, reached  
over, and spread it down Blaine’s nose. Blaine hadn’t seen it coming, and recoiled back before looking at  
Kurt in surprise. He made such a cute picture, eyes comically round and wide, the rice clinging to the tip of  
his nose, that Kurt couldn’t help but smirk. It didn’t last long, though, because the next thing he knew he  
was splattered with warm sauce, Blaine proudly holding the offending spoon and looking quite smug.  
"You will ruin my skin care regimen, Blaine Anderson," Kurt hissed, trying to look as dignified as possible  
while dabbing at the spots of sauce with a napkin.  
"You still do that?"  
"Yes, I still do that. It’s why I continue to have flawless skin, while you will probably be covered in  
wrinkles by age forty." He flippantly tossed the napkin at Blaine with a flick of his wrist and returned to  
stirring the rice.  
"Well then I’ll fit right in with all the other wrinkly people. You’ll just look like some abnormally smooth  
alien creature." Blaine flicked more sauce at Kurt’s face, undeterred.  
"Blaine! I’m serious!" But he was laughing even as he wiped again at the spots with a fresh napkin.  
"Okay, okay. Here, taste," Blaine said, holding out the spoon. But when Kurt leaned forward to sample the  
sauce, Blaine pushed the spoon into his face, smearing the brown liquid over his lips and cheek and  
making him splutter. Blaine cackled at Kurt’s disheveled state and sucked the rest of the sauce off the  
spoon.  
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"Okay, it’s on," Kurt challenged over Blaine’s laughter. He skimmed a handful of rice from the top of the  
pot and flung it at Blaine, who continued laughing and retaliated with another spoonful of sauce. Seconds  
later the air was filled with giggling, screeching, flying napkins, and bits of rice and sauce.  
"No! My sweater! This is Marc Jacobs, Blaine!" Kurt shrieked as a glob of sauce landed on his shoulder. He  
launched himself at Blaine, trying to pin his arms behind his back.  
"Oh, please. You- have- at least- five more," Blaine replied, panting as he evaded Kurt’s trap, only to find  
himself pushed into the counter, his weapon plucked from his hand.  
"Surrender!" Kurt said, brandishing the spoon threateningly at Blaine.  
"Never!" Blaine cried, struggling to free himself.  
"Ahem," came a rather loud, fake cough from the kitchen table.  
Kurt froze, suddenly aware of his surroundings again. Blaine was splayed against the counter, breathing  
hard, grains of rice stuck all over his face, a bit of sauce dripping from his untidy hair down his temple. His  
cheeks were quickly turning red, and they were pressed too closely together, chest to chest with tangled  
legs. Kurt scrambled to get off him. He was sure he couldn’t have looked much better than Blaine. He  
quickly glanced over at the table, where Rachel was gaping at them, hands still poised over the cutting  
board, and Emilio was glaring with narrowed eyes. Without saying a word, Kurt turned back to the stove  
and stirred his now-burning rice, and Blaine took the sauce off the stove to let it cool before walking  
cautiously to the bathroom to clean himself up.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Thirteen  
2021  
"We need to talk about what happened tonight."  
Emilio was sitting up in bed, his book flattened over his lap. It was clear he hadn’t been reading, but  
simply waiting for Kurt to finish his moisturizing routine, which had been extra intense this evening, both  
as a tactic to rid himself completely of the sauce and to avoid the conversation he knew was imminent.  
Kurt hung up his robe in the closet and turned down the covers on his side of the bed. After he had fluffed  
the pillows and tucked himself in next to Emilio, he said, "Yeah. It was out of line."  
"This is why I don’t want you around him when you’re by yourself. Even if he’s clean now. I come home  
and you’re cuddling; who knows what else could happen when I’m not here?"  
"Emilio, it’s not like that. Blaine fell asleep, and I didn’t want to move him. Rachel was here, in her room,  
the whole time."  
"And then you were flirting with him. Right in front of me, Kurt." He snapped his book shut and placed it  
on the bedside table.  
Kurt was incredulous. "What- flirting- no."  
"What do you call it then, when you’ve got your hands all over a guy who’s not your fiancé?" Emilio folded  
his arms across his chest and looked straight ahead at the wall.  
"No, that’s just Blaine- he’s always been a very touchy-feely person." Kurt had to explain, to make Emilio  
understand. "Not just with me, with everyone. I’m sorry it got carried away. We were just having fun, and  
honestly, if it makes him happy for a few minutes, if it gets him to open up and smile, that’s a good thing, in  
my book. He’s making so much progress, and I don’t want to deny him that." Still, he wondered: were they  
flirting? It wouldn’t be the first time they had done so unconsciously. Did they have their hands all over  
each other? Would Kurt have been so embarrassed if it was, as he claimed to Emilio, totally innocent?  
"Kurt," Emilio replied, finally turning to look him in the eye, "I know he doesn’t have bad intentions, but   
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sometimes people act before thinking. I have eyes. I see the way he looks at you and it doesn’t sit right  
with me. I’m worried, because I also see the way you look at Blaine sometimes, and it’s not the same way  
you look at your other friends- Jamie, Rachel, and so on."  
"We’ve had this discussion before. Remember? I look at him and see five years that you missed."  
"That’s not what I mean. You look at him and I can see... passion... in your eyes. It’s too intimate. And when  
you look at me, there is no passion."  
Kurt stared at Emilio. "How can there be no passion? I’m marrying you."  
"There’s truth and sincerity and yes, I think love. But passion is the spark, the thing that makes your heart  
beat fast and takes your breath away. The thing that keeps you up at night and the thing that you live for  
by day. That’s what Blaine is for you, though it is, as you say, solely platonic. Passion is the drug. Blaine is  
your drug."  
Kurt couldn’t deny Emilio’s words, and the allusion to Blaine’s cocaine problem was unsettling. It  
frightened him, the idea that he wouldn’t be able to quit Blaine, that he was addicted to Blaine. Kurt rolled  
over until he was half on top of Emilio, placed a hand on his chest, and met his eyes intently. "I love you,"  
he said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as if he was questioning the truth of his own statement. He  
searched Emilio’s eyes.  
"Yes," Emilio confirmed. "And I love you. And that’s it." He tilted his head up to kiss Kurt. When he tried to  
pull away, Kurt chased his lips and deepened the kiss, pressing in, sucking on Emilio’s tongue until he  
made him moan, trying to prove to himself as much as Emilio that passion could be found between them.  
May 2016  
After Blaine had spent a solid month parked on the couch in the "camp of depression," as Alex had dubbed  
it, he and the other two occupants of the apartment staged an intervention. Dan swooped in and gathered  
up the empty pizza boxes, cups half-filled with cheap vodka or soda, and crumpled tissues exploding from  
the couch in a ten-foot radius of debris. Alex managed to wrestle the remote from a protesting Blaine and  
flicked off the television. Harrison hauled Blaine up, pushed him in the direction of the shower, and told  
him, "You’re coming to the bar with us tonight, man."  
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"I don’t feel like going out," Blaine whined.  
"Dude, this whole place is starting to smell like bad cheese. I’m sick of coming home to your miserable face  
staring at some dumb T.V. show. And you’d just be sitting here drinking anyway."  
"But-"  
"Blaine," Dan said, returning from the kitchen, his hands now free of garbage, "If you’re not ready in fortyfive minutes I will drag you out of this apartment. I don’t care if you’re still naked with shampoo in your  
hair. So you better get in the shower and then get ready to go, unless you want to show all of Manhattan  
your junk."  
"Alex?" Blaine tried lamely.  
"I’ll buy you a drink," Alex said. "I’ll buy you five drinks. Just come on, Blaine. Exams are finally over and  
we have the whole summer to look forward to; let’s celebrate."  
Blaine hung his head and trudged to the shower, all his resources exhausted. Defeated, he allowed himself  
to be forced out to bars and clubs more than once over the following weeks. The first few times, he sat at  
the bar by himself, nursing his drinks all night, or hung off to the side of the dance floor with one of his  
friends. Going out didn’t exactly make him feel better, but it did make him forget for a few hours.  
The fourth time he went out alone. He stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, contemplating his  
tired-looking reflection before he left, and his eye caught on the promise ring he was still wearing. Kurt’s  
had been tucked away, hidden in a pair of ugly socks Blaine’s parents had sent him one Christmas, for  
safekeeping. Just in case he decided to come back. Blaine, however, hadn’t taken his off. He twisted it  
around his finger, now, under the harsh artificial light of the bathroom, and removed it. Blaine held his  
hand out in front of himself to study the difference. All five fingers were matching and bare now, but for a  
faint line of lighter-colored skin where the ring had been. His hand looked surprisingly unfamiliar and  
incomplete without it, but he didn’t put the ring back on.  
At the bar, he sat, draining his glass and staring into space as usual, when someone sat next to him and  
said to the bartender, "Another rum and coke for this guy, if you don’t mind."  
Blaine looked up. There was a handsome man beside him, a bit older with the beginnings of a few creases   
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along his face, but wearing a kind smile. "You didn’t have to do that," Blaine said.  
"You’re welcome, don’t mention it," the man joked. Blaine mentally smacked himself for not thanking him  
for the drink. He hastily tried to correct himself  
"Sorry, I didn’t mean-"  
"Hey, no harm done." The man was still smiling at him serenely.  
"Why did you come over here?" Blaine asked. Of all the single gay guys in the place, Blaine was sure he  
was least appealing. Everyone else seemed more gorgeous and much happier.  
The man tilted his head. "Because I saw a cute, lonely guy and I wanted to cheer him up," he said simply.  
"The real question is, why are you lonely?"  
Blaine turned away, taking a drink from his fresh glass to give himself something to do other than  
answering the question. The man pressed on. "Did you get stood up?" he asked, plucking the lime from the  
edge of Blaine’s glass and sucking on it. When Blaine made no response, he tried again. "Just get out of a  
relationship?"  
Blaine grimaced involuntarily.  
"I see," said the man. "How long?"  
"Five years," Blaine replied, staring into his drink.  
"Ah. That explains the whole lack of social skills thing." The man set the lime down on the bar.  
"It’s really the only relationship I’ve ever been in," Blaine found himself saying, not knowing why he was  
confessing this to some stranger, but the man’s gentle smile encouraged him to go on. "We were together  
since high school. It feels so weird now. Not to be his boyfriend. And for him not to be mine. I’m so used to  
him being my Kurt, you know? And now he’s just... Kurt."  
"Well, he must have been a hell of a guy, to hang onto you for so long," the man said consolingly. "What  
ended it?"  
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Blaine shook his head, looking out over the other patrons at the bar. "Lots of things. Money. Lack thereof.  
Shit like this," he said, motioning to the rum and coke. "And like this," waving his hand back and forth from  
the man to himself. "Dreams not living up to reality. Stupid arguments and name calling. Becoming very  
different people than we were when we met each other, and not knowing how to go back."  
"That’s why I don’t bother with falling in love," the man said, as Blaine took a bitter swig of his drink.  
"Because it always ends like that."  
***  
Blaine woke, his senses murky with sleep and the remnants of last night’s alcohol. Below him, tousled  
pillows and sheets, too soft to be the couch in his apartment, too firm to be his and Kurt’s bed. Above him,  
the heavy, warm mass of skin and sinew holding him in place on the mattress. The smell of sex in the air,  
his forehead clammy with dried sweat, his head aching and his ass sore. His mouth, stale-tasting and  
cotton-dry.  
He managed to wriggle out from underneath the man he had met last night, scrunching his nose in disgust  
as their sticky stomachs peeled apart. He found his clothing, strewn across the floor, a piece here, a piece  
there, like clues leading to a treasure map. They were wrinkled and grimy, and Blaine was a picture of  
complete uncleanliness after slipping them on over his unwashed body. He looked over at the man, whose  
name he still didn’t know, and as if on command, he stirred and groaned, bringing a hand up to pinch the  
bridge of his nose before carefully opening his eyes against the sunlight.  
"You going?" he said, blinking over at Blaine.  
"Yeah- um, yes," Blaine said awkwardly.  
"Alright, then. Hope I cheered you up." The man rolled over, turning his back to Blaine.  
"Sure, thanks," Blaine lied. He let himself out of the apartment and wandered down the hallway until he  
found an elevator, sure he would never see the man again.  
He felt completely shameful walking down the busy streets, as if everyone he passed could tell just by  
looking at him what he had done. He hadn’t felt like that since before he had come out, and it wasn’t  
something he had ever wished to experience again. There was a vacant hole spreading within him, filling   
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him with nothingness. Some part of him that had once belonged to Kurt was slowly becoming cold and  
numb, devoid of life.  
By the time he got back to his apartment, Blaine’s legs were shaking. No one was home- his roommates  
had all gone to class. He couldn’t even make it to his usual refuge, the couch, with his knees knocking  
together so badly. Instead, Blaine sank down just before reaching it, on the carpet, and curled up, drawing  
his knees to his chest. He stared at the clumps of dust underneath the couch and sobbed uncontrollably,  
until he was entirely empty.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Fourteen  
July 2016  
Kurt came home to find Rachel paging through his design sketchbook. "Hey, how did your first week go?"  
she asked brightly, closing the book and laying it on the coffee table. "I feel like I’ve hardly seen you since  
the weekend."  
"Yeah, we keep missing each other," Kurt replied. "What with your rehearsals for the new show, and my  
long hours."  
"First supporting role on Broadway!" Rachel sang. She stood and clasped her hands. "Well?" she pressed.  
"It was... good, overall. I think I’m going to really like working for her." He dropped his satchel between the  
door and the bookshelf.  
"Excellent! What’s her name again?"  
"Mary DuPre," Kurt said. "She does a lot of women’s business casual, mainly. She’s working on a line for  
Target right now."  
"Maybe I can score some pieces for my future auditions," Rachel mused. Kurt stifled a snort, and made a  
mental note on what to buy her for her next birthday.  
"Are you going to be helping her design anything?" Rachel asked.  
"Eh, I don’t think so." Kurt flopped into an armchair and took off his shoes. "I’m doing construction, for the  
most part. Pinning the sample garments, making cuts, fixing mistakes, things like that. It’s not terrible,  
though- I ran into Jamie a few times, and we had lunch together, and you know he’s always a ton of fun."  
"Too bad you won’t get to stretch your creative muscles there, though."  
"Well, I prefer to design menswear, anyway. You know." He tilted his head toward his sketchbook.  
"I wanted to ask you about that, actually."  
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"Oh? What, specifically?"  
"Well, I couldn’t help noticing that your designs have seemed kind of... gloomy, for a while now. Sadlooking. Since you and Blaine split."  
Kurt hesitated. "Yeah, well, that’s to be expected, isn’t it? I just haven’t had the same taste in color, or the  
same eye for lines and angles since it happened."  
"It’s not just your designs," Rachel added. "I can see it in the way you walk around this apartment, like  
you’re seeing things that aren’t there. The way you just stare into space and don’t really connect anymore.  
I can tell you don’t take in half of what I say to you. And I miss your laugh. You never laugh anymore."  
"That’s because nothing’s funny. Like I said, my tastes have changed."  
Rachel eyed him. "You can say it, you know."  
"What?"  
"That you’re still getting over him. I won’t judge you. It took me ages with Finn."  
Kurt swallowed against the lump in his throat. "It’s just hard," he said, avoiding her eyes.  
She came over and perched on the arm of Kurt’s chair. "I know. It’s hard for me, too. I mean, not as much  
as it is for you, but Blaine was my friend, and now we’ve lost touch, like I had to pick a side or something."  
She squeezed his shoulder. "But I’m glad things are looking up for you. I’m glad you’ve landed a great job.  
Sunny days are coming soon. I can feel it."  
2021  
"Are you in love with Emilio?" Blaine asked Kurt, point-blank, one afternoon when he dropped by Mary  
DuPre’s studio to bring Kurt lunch. Blaine ended up eating most of the salad, anyway, leaning over Kurt’s  
desk after Kurt had picked at it feebly before returning to his computer, where he was adjusting a few of  
his own designs.  
"I love Emilio. That’s why I’m marrying him," Kurt replied, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the   
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computer. Passion, however...  
Blaine combed tracks through the salad with his fork, picking out the pecans and popping them into his  
mouth. "Is it, though? And should you be working on your own stuff during company hours?"  
"No." He clicked a few times with his mouse, changing the color of a jacket slightly. "What are you  
implying, anyway?"  
"Nothing. You done with this?" Kurt nodded, and Blaine tossed the remainder of the salad into the trash  
can beside the desk. "I just recall a young Kurt Hummel who was rather obsessed with the idea of being  
married legally by age thirty."  
"Because it was something I never thought I’d have the opportunity to do, and then New York legalized  
gay marriage. The fact that Emilio showed up a mere two years away from my thirtieth birthday has  
nothing to do with it."  
Blaine picked up a paperweight off Kurt’s desk and tossed it up in the air, catching it like a baseball. "I  
don’t want you to settle to fulfil some old high school goal, that’s all." He replaced the paperweight and  
crossed around to Kurt’s side of the desk.  
Kurt moved over in his seat to make room for Blaine, who squeezed in beside him. "That’s not what this is.  
I love Emilio."  
"But are you in love with him? There’s a difference."  
Kurt stopped fussing with his computer and looked at Blaine instead, who was staring at him, bright and  
honest, waiting for his response. Kurt had the eerie feeling that Blaine must have been talking to Emilio, so  
similar was the vein of this conversation and the one he and his fiancé had a week ago, but he knew that  
couldn’t be possible, as they barely acknowledged one another.  
When Kurt didn’t answer, Blaine spoke again. "You know, I’ve been with a lot of guys- you know," he said,  
something apologetic flashing in his eyes. "And Santana’s right- she told me it means nothing unless you’re  
with someone you’re in love with. And the only time it’s meant something for me has been with you."  
Kurt was struck by the loneliness of that statement- that despite the countless men Blaine had slept with   
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over the years, he was still left empty, ultimately alone. "But it’s not about sex," Blaine continued, his eyes  
locked with Kurt’s. "And it’s not about giving yourself to another person. It’s about seeing everything that  
person is, and allowing them to see all of you, and still loving that person at the end of the day, every day.  
That’s what it was like, with you."  
Kurt was aware of how close Blaine was sitting; he could see the gold flecks in his eyes and feel the  
warmth where their thighs pressed together, but he didn’t move away. Neither did Blaine. His voice  
became gentle and muted as he asked, "Is that what it’s like with Emilio?"  
Before Kurt could manage to respond, Blaine spoke again, breaking the suddenly restrictive air. "Sorry. I  
know it’s none of my business, and it probably sounds ridiculous coming from me, when I haven’t been in  
love in five years."  
"No," Kurt said, shaking his head. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from Blaine’s.  
"Who am I to give advice to anyone?" The words were spoken like a joke, but Blaine’s face was completely  
serious, and Kurt could sense the pain brimming just under the surface. He placed a reassuring hand on  
Blaine’s knee and heard his breath hitch slightly with the action. "I mean, you’re happy, right?" he said,  
eyes dropping to Kurt’s lips.  
Kurt mirrored him, letting his own gaze fall to Blaine’s lips, perfectly pink and slightly parted. He leaned  
forward, just slightly, and a strange thrill ran through him when Blaine tilted his face closer in response.  
They closed the distance between them, Kurt’s hand tightening on Blaine’s knee. He closed his eyes. He  
could feel the heat of Blaine’s breath ghosting over his face, and you move medancing in his mind, and  
then...  
"What are we doing?" Blaine’s startlingly loud and harsh voice, so different from the soft tone of moments  
before, brought Kurt crashing back down. His eyes snapped open. Blaine was already climbing out of the  
chair and stumbling away, holding a hand to the side of his head in shock. "We can’t do this," he said when  
he was out of reach, eyes wide and hurt and scared. "I’m not going to be that guy."  
Kurt stood up, his chair scraping across the floor noisily. "Blaine," he said, reaching out, but Blaine tripped  
backwards over himself to get further away. In a flash, too many things were happening too fast.  
"No, Kurt!" Blaine said, still backing toward the door. "I know what cheating does to a relationship, I’ve   
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already been through that with you, and I’m not going to be that guy again." Kurt scurr  
desk, chasing after him. "Blaine, please, we can talk about-"  
"I always ruin everything! I’m such an idiot."  
He had finally caught up with Blaine, feet from the door. "Hey- no- it wasn’t your fault. Nothing happened,  
Blaine." Kurt reached out, clasped his hand.  
Blaine shook him away. "It almost did! I should know better." He backed into the door, turned, and  
fumbled with the handle. "And you should know better! You had it done to you! You should just stay away  
from me, okay- I screw up everything I touch." And before Kurt could reply, he flung the door open and  
ran out of his office.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fifteen  
December 2016  
By the start of his senior year, Blaine had lost track of the amount of times he had gone out for the sole  
purpose of drinking, dancing, and meeting a stranger to spend the night with. He could no longer count  
the number of men he had picked up, or been picked up by, in the various bars of Manhattan. No one  
lasted for more than a few nights of drunken indulgence before Blaine would sever all connections and  
they’d go their separate ways. There was a small voice inside his head that told him he was trying to fill  
the empty space inside of him, the space that used to belong to Kurt, with a parade of faceless men; that he  
was avoiding facing his true feelings by muting them, muffling them with a thick blanket of fear and  
shame. An even tinier voice still thought, What would Kurt think? But another, larger voice, the one he was  
using to face the world currently, convinced him he was over the only boy who had ever loved him, that  
the reason he was behaving this way was because he had never had the freedom to do so before, because  
he enjoyed it.  
The nights all seemed to blur together in an endless rainbow of light and color and noise. As winter  
approached, Blaine’s life became wholly focused on the pursuit of that sweet place between the pulsing of  
the beat and the pounding of the hangover. His class work, friends, hobbies, all fell by the wayside. He  
couldn’t remember the last time he turned in an assignment on time, or talked to Rachel, or sang a song,  
and he felt nothing when he recalled how much he used to love to mold his mouth around lyrics, to taste  
them bright and resounding against his tongue.  
One night among many, during the early first frosts of December, Blaine found himself staring perplexedly  
at someone who looked vaguely familiar across the bar. Blond hair, tanned skin, too-white teeth and a  
baby blue shirt. Kurt’s old roommate, Jamie, Blaine realized after the sluggishness in his brain caught up  
with itself. Before he could stand up and blend into the crowd, Jamie spotted him, waved, and then walked  
around the bar to take the seat next to Blaine. "How’s it going, Blaine?" he asked easily. "I haven’t seen you  
in a long time."  
"Yeah, looks like that’s what happens when you break up with someone. All their friends go one way and  
all mine go the other," Blaine said, mind a bit misty from the alcohol. When Jamie took a minute to reply,  
Blaine replayed his words in his head and didn’t know if they made any sense.  
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"Hey, we’re still friends," Jamie said eventually. His voice had already taken on a cautious, guarded toneone that Blaine was becoming increasingly used to being addressed in. "I hope you know that."  
Blaine made a face. He didn’t recall Jamie being such a serious person. Where were the jokes, the  
audacious flirting, silly catchphrases, bubbling exclamations? Here he was, stock still and completely  
straight-faced. But then again, most people didn’t joke or smile around Blaine anymore, like they were  
scared to set off an explosion.  
Blaine didn’t know what to say. He certainly didn’t think he and Jamie were friends. Not when they hadn’t  
spoken in nine months, and wouldn’t have if they hadn’t run into each other. It’s not like they had ever  
been close to begin with. Jamie was always Kurt’s friend, first and foremost. Always took Kurt’s side in  
their arguments, always confided things in Kurt that he wouldn’t in Blaine. Kurt told Blaine everything  
anyway, and Blaine laughed softly as he realized he had an advantage- Jamie probably still didn’t know  
that Blaine knew more about him than he expected. Then the small voice in him returned to ask when this  
had become some sort of contest, and he stopped laughing and took a drink.  
Jamie examined him curiously. "I heard through the grapevine that you’ve been quite the social butterfly  
lately," he said slowly. "Sounds like you’ve had a lot of admirers."  
"Had a lot of sex, is more like it," Blaine replied bluntly. He didn’t ask about Kurt. Didn’t give Jamie the  
satisfaction of knowing that inside, he was desperate for some information on whether Kurt was still okay  
this time.  
"Well, great," Jamie said. "Good for you." He sounded anything but pleased with Blaine.  
"What happened to you, Jamie?" Blaine snarled, suddenly angry. "You used to be fun." He hated the  
spotlight of attention Jamie was focusing on his life, now just one big series of mistakes, with Blaine  
helpless to their pull, knowing they were mistakes even while in the midst of them, but unable to do  
anything to stop himself. The only way out was to turn the tables and attack Jamie.  
But Jamie would have none of it. "What happened to you, Blaine?" he countered. "You used to be happy."  
"I’m fine." He was anything but fine. The steadiness of Jamie’s blue eyes, the way he stared with quiet  
contemplation, reflected it back to Blaine, confirmed it.  
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"Look, Blaine," Jamie said after a long pause, during which Blaine had let the music and chatter of the  
crowd crash into his ears, flood his mind with white noise. "It’s not really my place to say this-"  
"Then don’t."  
"But I think I know what’s going on here. I think you’re afraid, and that’s why you’re acting like this, like  
everyone’s against you, like you have to go out and find cheap thrills to make up for something missing." It  
was too close to the truth. Blaine shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Jamie kept talking, wouldn’t stop  
talking. "I think you gave so much of your love and trust to Kurt, and now Kurt’s out in the world holding it  
all, and Kurt has the power to do whatever he wants with all of that, your love and secrets and intimacies.  
I think you feel like he stole it from you."  
"Shut up, Jamie," Blaine said quietly. It was as if Jamie had somehow managed to acquire an all-access pass  
into his darkest thoughts, the ones Blaine wouldn’t even allow himself to recognize.  
And still he kept talking. "Maybe if you tried letting someone new in, tried really trusting them, instead of  
just using them to get off-"  
"Shut up, Jamie!" Blaine shouted, pushing away from the bar and standing up clumsily. Several nearby  
customers turned to look in their direction, and Blaine forced himself to calm down. Jamie merely  
continued to look at him. "I’ve seen what trust does," Blaine finally said, the effort of controlling himself  
making his voice strain. "Everyone I’ve ever trusted has walked out on me, or turned on me. My parents,  
my friends, and now Kurt. So no, I don’t think I’ll bother with trust anymore." He turned on his heel and  
walked out into the chilly night air.  
2021  
Santana opened the door after his second attempt at knocking. "What did you do to him, dough boy?" she  
demanded immediately.  
"What? Nothing!" Kurt insisted, trying to push his way into the apartment.  
"Well, you must have done something. I haven’t seen him so depressed since he was on coke, and I’m not  
even going to try and gratify that with a joke, that’s how serious I am."  
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"Santana, you do realize saying that you’re not joking is as good as actually joking about it, right?"  
She ignored his comment. "He’s not going to want to see you. In fact, he specifically said, ‘If Kurt comes by,  
don’t let him in, or I’ll use the power of my half-ninja skills to end him.’"  
Kurt just gave her a look.  
"What? I wouldn’t cross Blaine, if I were you- the other half of him has serious Irish brawling blood, in  
case you didn’t know."  
The door was pulled back, out of her hands, and Pixie appeared. "Oh, let him in, ‘Tana," she said. "Maybe  
he can cure him." Santana rolled her eyes, but backed up, allowing Kurt to step into the apartment. Pixie  
planted a kiss on Santana’s cheek and murmured, "Be nice, babe."  
Kurt made his way down the hallway. "I’m an attorney, I can’t afford to be nice!" he heard Santana exclaim  
as the door was shut behind him.  
"Thanks, Pixie," he said. He noticed the living room was empty. "Where is he?"  
"Locked away in his room," she called, hooking her chin over Santana’s shoulder. "Good luck." She waved  
him away.  
Kurt knocked on the door adjacent to the corner of the living room. "Blaine?" he said. There was no  
response. "I know you’re in there," he tried again, jiggling the handle. It was locked. "Come on, Sunshine. I  
need to talk to you."  
The door was suddenly wrenched open. "Don’t call me that," Blaine snapped. "What do you want?" He  
looked worn and angry.  
Kurt was taken aback for a moment at the severity of Blaine’s voice. "Hey, there’s no need to be mean, just  
because you’re upset about what happened," he said.  
"And you’re not?" He turned back into his bedroom, leaving the door wide open, and flung himself onto his  
bed.  
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Kurt followed him in. "I’m worried about you. I haven’t heard from you in days and I was starting to think  
you relapsed."  
Blaine looked up then, hurt. "You don’t believe I can do it?"  
"I believe in you, but it’s been a hard road, and it happens to a lot of recovering addicts. It wouldn’t be the  
most shocking thing ever, Blaine."  
"Well, I didn’t. Thanks for your support." He turned away, closing in on himself, shutting down.  
Kurt stopped him before he was beyond reach. "Nothing happened, Blaine." He ignored the niggling voice  
at the back of his head, telling him that he wouldn’t have stopped Blaine from kissing him, if Blaine hadn’t  
stopped himself first. He also ignored the voice that questioned, what did that say about his morals, and  
what did that say about his relationship with Emilio?  
"Yes it did! It doesn’t matter that we didn’t actually kiss. The intent was still there." Blaine grabbed a  
pillow and hugged it to his chest. "You’re getting married in less than two months, Kurt."  
"Look, I know you feel terrible about it, and most likely embarrassed, too-"  
"Just stop, Kurt."  
Blaine stared down at the comforter, clutching his pillow stubbornly, and Kurt stood in the middle of the  
carpet, not knowing how to fix this and keep both his relationship with his fiancé and his friendship with  
Blaine intact. "We should just pretend like it never happened," he said finally.  
"I still have your promise ring," Blaine said quietly. Kurt couldn’t follow Blaine’s train of thought. What did  
that have to do with this?  
"You do?"  
"Yeah." Blaine put the pillow aside, opened the drawer in his side table, and took out a small box. "I never  
got rid of it," he said, and oh, now Kurt understood. Had Blaine been holding onto the hope that he and  
Kurt could get back together for all these years?  
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Kurt took a step forward. "Blaine..."  
"You should have it. Take it back." He stood and pressed the box into Kurt’s hand, not meeting his eyes,  
and brushed by him. His voice was a little too harsh, a little too tight and thin. At the door, he added,  
"Consider it the beginning of my repayment for rehab," and swept out of the room, leaving Kurt alone with  
his thoughts, which churned revoltingly until they settled on one:  
Giving the ring back means that he doesn’t believe in us anymore.  
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Chapter Sixteen  
2021  
"Okay, we need to get this one. It’s adorable," Rachel enthused. She held up a tiny white lace pinafore. "And  
a girl can never have enough dresses."  
"Gorgeous," Kurt agreed, fanning out the skirt. "Our Toast is going to be the classiest baby in Manhattan.  
I’m so glad you found this vintage children’s clothing store. It’s genius."  
"Isn’t it?" Rachel rifled through the row of dresses in front of her. "You have to dig for the gems, but it’s  
worth it. No way we’re putting her in generic pink floral prints."  
"Not when she has a Broadway actress for a mother and a fashion designer for a father. Come to think of  
it, we sound rather high-maintenance. This poor child." Kurt started to search through a rack of  
outerwear.  
"Oh, please- she’ll be spoiled rotten and you know it. And under our tutelage, she’ll grow to have a love for  
musical theater, a talent for singing, and an impeccable eye for fashion."  
"Or she’ll completely resent the frilly outfits and forced drama classes and as a result, she’ll go the tomboy  
or emo route," Kurt shrugged. "We could have quite a handful to deal with in fifteen years’ time. What if  
we have to play sports, Rachel?"  
She laughed from her side of the rack. "You sound like that would be the worst thing that could ever  
happen."  
"My reputation would never survive. My skin would be a disaster from all the sweating. I don’t think I  
even own any sports-appropriate attire anymore, since I lent my sweat pants to Blaine and have yet to  
receive them back." He held a red pea coat at arm’s length, considering.  
"Lucky you have some time to acquire more, then. She’s not going to be doing much besides sleeping,  
eating, pooping, and crying for a few months at least."  
"But sports, Rachel." He shuddered and showed her the coat over the rack, eyebrows raised.  
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"You were on both the football team and the cheerleading squad in high school, albeit briefly. I’m sure  
you’ll manage. We should get the coat, by the way. It’s a classic."  
Kurt’s phone rang as he added the red pea coat to his basket, on top of the white pinafore. He fished for it  
in his pocket, but didn’t recognize the number when he read the screen. Still, he pressed the button to  
accept the call. "Hello?"  
"I’m calling for Mr. Kurt Hummel," a gruff, unfamiliar voice said.  
"Speaking." He held the phone up with his shoulder as he continued to push aside the clothing, piece by  
piece.  
"Mr. Hummel, this is Officer Gregory Fielding with the NYPD. I’m calling because you were listed as the  
emergency contact in a Mr. Emilio Rodriguez’s cell phone."  
Kurt stopped moving, stock-still. His mind flashed to the last time he had seen Emilio- earlier that morning  
before he left the apartment, asking him to pick up an order of linens for the wedding, since Kurt had  
insisted on creating their own instead of using the hotel’s provided ones. "Oh God, is everything okay?"  
Rachel’s head snapped up from down the aisle. "Do you, in fact, know Mr. Rodriguez?" the officer asked.  
Kurt swallowed, his heart beating fast. "I’m his fiancé. What’s wrong?" He almost didn’t dare ask, afraid to  
know the answer.  
The officer took a deep breath as Rachel approached, looking serious. "I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad  
news, but your fiancé was hit by a vehicle while crossing the street. He’s been taken to Lennox Hill  
Hospital with moderate injuries. It’s part of our procedure to inform the next of kin, and as we could find  
no clear blood relation in his phone’s contact list-"  
"His family’s all in Venezuela."  
"-we contacted you, since you were listed as his ICE."  
"Kurt, what’s-" Rachel started, but he shook his head at her. He started to walk down the aisle, toward the  
exit of the store, and she followed, hurrying to keep up.  
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"I’m on my way to the hospital right now," Kurt told the officer. "Is he going to be okay?"  
"That’s something you’ll have to ask the hospital staff, Mr. Hummel. I can, however, inform you that he did  
appear to be in stable condition on the scene."  
"Okay. Thank you." He hung up. "Emilio was hit by a car; he’s in the hospital," he informed Rachel, whose  
eyes widened. They rushed onto the sidewalk and hailed a cab, their baskets of clothing abandoned in the  
aisle of the store.  
***  
Kurt sat slumped in a chair in the waiting room. Rachel had wandered off to get coffee for them both, her  
seat immediately taken over by a man holding an ice pack to his eye, and the bustling noise of waiting  
patients was giving Kurt a headache. They hadn’t been able to tell him much about Emilio- the stoplight  
had turned green while he was still crossing the street, and a car had accelerated too quickly, clipping him  
as he reached the corner. He had been lucky, thanks to the car’s low speed. The biggest damage was  
bruising, two fractured ribs, and one broken rib that had caused a punctured lung. He was in surgery to  
repair the lung, and Kurt would have to wait.  
As he warily watched the various patients awaiting care, the automatic doors whooshed open and a  
familiar face came into view, bobbing along in his corduroy jacket and knitted scarf. Great. As if he didn’t  
have enough to deal with already, and now this, too. Blaine spotted Kurt where he was squashed into his  
corner and wove his way through the waiting room until he reached him. There were no free seats and he  
was forced to stand awkwardly in front of Kurt. "Hey. I came as soon as I heard," he said.  
Kurt crossed his arms, unsatisfied with Blaine’s lack of explanation for his behavior at his apartment last  
week. "I thought you were mad at me."  
"Mad at you?" Blaine repeated, blinking owlishly.  
"Yeah. The last time I saw you, you had been avoiding me for days and then proceeded to storm out on  
me."  
Blaine shuffled his feet, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Can we just do what you said? Forget it ever  
happened?"  
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Kurt sniffed, feigning aloofness. "About time you take my suggestion." They both looked up as a doctor  
entered the waiting room, but she called someone else’s name, and an elderly man stood up and slowly  
passed between them, a crying little boy taking his chair. "What are you doing here, anyway?" Kurt asked  
when the man had moved beyond their space. "I was under the impression you don’t even like Emilio. Or  
do you?"  
"I didn’t come for him," Blaine replied softly, his voice almost lost in all the noise. Kurt looked up, and  
Blaine’s mouth quirked into a mellow smile.  
Kurt returned the smile, but it faded quickly. "I feel so guilty," he confided. "He was out picking up linens. I  
was to supposed to get them, but Rachel asked me to go shopping, and I didn’t want to miss out. So I asked  
Emilio if he could get the linens. He wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I had just done it myself like I was  
supposed to." Kurt leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, putting his head in his hands.  
Blaine crouched down so that he was level with Kurt. He tentatively reached out and wrapped his hand  
around Kurt’s shoulder, squeezing gently. It was the first time he had touched him since the incident at  
Kurt’s office. Kurt felt the warmth radiate out from underneath Blaine’s hand in tingling bolts. "You didn’t  
crash that car into him," Blaine said. "It’s-"  
"Kurt Hummel?" a doctor called from the doorway to the waiting room. Not your fault, Kurt finished in his  
head as he stood to greet the doctor, Blaine trailing behind as if unsure whether or not to follow. The  
doctor explained that Emilio was out of surgery, but still sleeping because of the anesthetic. The surgery  
had been routine, and they had successfully repaired the lung. Kurt heaved a sigh of relief, thanked the  
doctor, and allowed Blaine to pull him into a brief one-armed hug.  
***  
Kurt spent his afternoon doting on Emilio, leaving his bedside only to purchase a sandwich at the  
cafeteria, and Blaine hung around with Rachel. They had a laugh over the multiple people who thought  
they were a couple and that Rachel was in labor, split a vegan dark chocolate candy bar Rachel had in her  
purse- Blaine gave back his half after one bite, grimacing- and strolled the halls. Hours later, long after  
Rachel had gone home and the sleeping Emilio had woken up, Blaine leaned against the wall outside of the  
hospital room. Kurt and Emilio’s voices floated out into the hallway as Blaine listened. "I’m sorry," he  
heard Kurt say. "I never should have asked you to go."  
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"Don’t worry about it," Emilio’s voice, heavy with sleep, replied. "It’s not your fault, babe."  
"People keep telling me that, but I still feel bad." Blaine frowned. He didn’t think he had actually had the  
chance to tell Kurt, though he had wanted to say it. "Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything else?"  
Kurt’s voice was muted, gentle and warm, and Blaine pushed aside the aches of pain he felt sharply in his  
heart at Kurt’s tone. He could remember when Kurt used to talk like that to him, all cozy comfort and love.  
"No, I’m fine. Please don’t feel bad about it." Blaine peeked into the room. Emilio was propped up against  
the pillows and Kurt’s back was to the door as he sat at the bedside, holding his fiance’s hand, his thumb  
brushing over Emilio’s fingers gently. "Besides," Emilio added, reaching up to brush a lock of hair off  
Kurt’s forehead, "if you had gone to get the linens, you might be the one in this bed, and I wouldn’t have  
been able to stand that. Come here."  
Blaine backed into the hall again as they kissed. This jealousy would drive him mad if they kept that up.  
Their affection made him long for something he hadn’t had in years, had never had except with Kurt, and  
Blaine couldn’t help but think that Emilio didn’t know how fortunate he was to have him. It was so hard to  
be around them, knowing that he could have been Kurt’s, if he hadn’t trashed the best thing that had ever  
happened to him. And it was so tempting to make it go away for a while- he knew where to get what he  
needed, and he knew how much better it would make him feel, how much easier it would be.  
But he also knew that although it would be a temporary fix, it would become a permanent problem, were  
he to sink to that again. He would lose Kurt completely if he resumed using, and then he would lose  
himself, too. He had to do this the hard way, not only to keep Kurt a part of his life, but to prove to himself  
that he was capable.  
December 2016  
Christmas Eve and Blaine wandered tipsily in a multicolored, jingle-belled stupor down the sidewalk. He  
didn’t know the destination. All that mattered were the two beautiful boys guiding him. "I am so totally  
smashed," he admitted, and they both laughed lightly. The tall one, Sean or Seth or whatever his name  
was, linked his hand with Blaine’s, and the other one, his boyfriend, floated a few steps ahead, touching  
each lamppost and garbage can as he passed. Blaine closed his eyes and allowed himself to be pulled  
along, tethered like a kite, as they passed through alleys and deserted side streets. The painted swirls of  
color behind his eyes drifted away, and it wasn’t until the door banged behind him that he became aware  
they had entered a building.  
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"Not much further now," one of the boys murmured.  
The three of them tripped their way up four flights of dimly-lit stairs, finally reaching a faded door  
covered in black graffiti and falling against it in a heap of giggles. Sean-Seth dug around in boyfriend’s  
back pockets, making a show of groping his ass, until he found a set of keys and pushed one into the lock.  
They all tumbled inside. When Blaine managed to drag himself to his feet again, tipping sideways into the  
wall as the shabby apartment careened around him, he started to unbutton his coat, but Sean-Seth stilled  
his hand and said, "There’s no heat in this place," his breath wisping out into the darkness.  
The boyfriend tugged Blaine by the elbows, leading him blindly. "Bedroom," he said. "This way." Blaine  
wondered why they didn’t put on the lights, then thought maybe they didn’t own any, then thought it was  
more fun like this anyway, as he bumped into a table and laughed.  
"Take out the stuff. I’ll put on some music," Sean-Seth said from somewhere in the darkness, and it was so  
funny that Blaine kept on laughing all the way to the bedroom. The boyfriend pushed him gently, and he  
fell backwards, landing on a mattress on the floor. He bounced a few times, still snorting and giggling, as  
the boyfriend rifled in a drawer somewhere to Blaine’s left.  
"Here we go," he said triumphantly, shoving the drawer shut and flopping onto the mattress  
unceremoniously beside Blaine. He bit the finger of his glove and tugged it off with his teeth. Then he  
started to spread some things out on the mattress between them: a plastic Ziploc bag, which Blaine made  
a grab for before his hand was slapped away, a hand-held mirror, a razor blade.  
From somewhere far away, music wafted into the bedroom, a song Blaine thought might be Elliott Smith.  
I’m floating in a black balloon... Sean-Seth stumbled into the room behind the music, catching his foot on  
the edge of the mattress, falling half on top of Blaine, crawling over his lap to find a free space. "You all  
set?" he asked.  
"You ruined it," the boyfriend replied, and Blaine looked down to see him arranging white powder on the  
mirror, using the razor to make it into a pattern of straight lines. He felt a jolt of excitement and danger,  
and smiled.  
Sean-Seth was looking at him. "What’s the punch line?" he slurred.  
"So I sort of lied to you guys," Blaine said, face cracking into a bigger smile. "I never did this before."  
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"Jesus, you’re a coke virgin," the boyfriend said, like he was horrified; then he added, in a perfectly  
nonchalant tone, "Well, first time for everything."  
Between is all you’ve ever seen or been... Blaine heard a loud, short snorting noise, and turned to see SeanSeth with his face to the mirror, taking in a line through a rolled-up dollar bill. He lifted his head slowly,  
sniffed once, and passed the dollar bill to his boyfriend, who repeated his actions. Then it was Blaine’s  
turn, the last remaining line waiting, ready, on the mirror, the dollar bill passed to him.  
Blaine tilted his head down to the mirror, the room spinning at his sudden movement. He held the dollar  
bill against his nostril, brought his free hand up to pinch the other side of his nose, caught a brief glimpse  
of himself, wild and ragged in the silvery smooth surface of the mirror, and snorted.  
He lifted his head. Sean-Seth and his boyfriend were kissing, hands roaming and tugging at clothes. Blaine  
could feel a dull, bitter burn in the back of his throat. He brought a hand up to his nose, rubbing at the  
twitchy phantom runny sensation. "I don’t know if I like it," he said, but no one seemed to hear him. SeanSeth broke the kiss and tracked his fingertips around on the mirror, gathering up the remnants of the  
cocaine, and rubbed it under his lips, on his gums.  
Fit poorly and arrange the sight... "Does that make it feel good or something?" Blaine asked, and Sean-Seth  
nodded.  
"Feels numb. Feels tingly." He was talking very fast, and moving the mirror to the floor, and his boyfriend  
was casting aside his coat, and breathing puffs of pale mist into the air between the three of them. Blaine’s  
mind unfurled in a million different directions, all at once. So much to say, so much to do. He felt strong; he  
felt powerful and full of life. He started to fumble with the buttons of his coat, and Sean-Seth helped,  
tugging away Blaine’s scarf, the silky material brushing his neck, and pushing the coat off his shoulders  
until it fell to the side of the mattress.  
Blaine realized he had been babbling, talking a stream of unending words as the other two boys continued  
to shed their outerwear. His brain finally caught up in time for him to hear himself say, "We gotta do  
something, we can’t just sit here, come on, let’s go out, it’s Christmas, I bet there’s something fun to do out  
there." He started to get up from the mattress, but felt a strong hand tug him back down.  
The boyfriend laughed under his breath. "Oh yeah, you’re feeling it," he said, just a soft undertone. "Plenty  
to do right here. Watch." Doll it up in virgin white... Blaine obeyed, laying back on his elbows to watch in a   
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strange sort of transfixed state as Sean-Seth and his boyfriend kissed again, slowly at first, tongues darting  
in and out, building up the momentum until they were both gasping and reaching to pull off each other’s  
clothing. Bare chests were revealed, flies were undone, hands grasping and clutching hips, lips and teeth  
seeking out necks and collarbones. Blaine watched, the make-out intensifying by the minute.  
You disappoint me... Sean-Seth pressed his boyfriend, now down to just his boxers, into the mattress next  
to Blaine, and said, "Wait." The boyfriend reached out, slipping his fingers up under Blaine’s shirt and  
tickling them up his spine, against his skin. At the same time, Sean-Seth suddenly turned and shoved his  
hand between Blaine’s legs, roughly cupping him. He groaned. "So hard already, just from our little show,"  
he said, and Blaine whimpered, suppressing a moan. "Why don’t you join us?" Sean-Seth invited, eyes  
flashing with heat.  
A distorted reality’s now a necessity to be free... Somehow Blaine found himself dragged in all directions, the  
unnamed boyfriend raking his fingers across Blaine’s chest as he tugged off his shirt, while Sean-Seth  
pulled both his jeans and underwear down in one swift pull. Somehow he found four hands casting  
shivering trails up his thighs, down his neck, around his nipples, up his shaft, sparking pinpricks of  
fireworks everywhere. In the street below carolers sang pure and clear, holy voices in a most unholy city.  
Shine on me baby, ‘cause it’s raining in my heart...  
2021  
When Kurt arrived home from the hospital, late that night, he was drained and exhausted. He entered his  
apartment quietly so as not to wake Rachel, and was surprised to see the lights still on in the living room  
and kitchen. Blaine was standing at the sink in the kitchen, washing the pots and pans. "Hey. I didn’t want  
you to starve when you got home, so I made dinner," he said, gesturing to the table, where a plate full of  
food was sitting. "If it cooled too much I can heat it up for you."  
Kurt dropped his keys on the table and hung his coat over the back of a chair. "Thanks," he said, sitting  
down to tuck into the meal. "That means a lot, Blaine."  
"I knew you’d be too tired to make yourself something," Blaine replied. He went back to scrubbing at the  
pot in his soapy hands.  
"You didn’t tell me you were leaving," Kurt said around a mouthful of food.  
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"I left a couple hours after Rachel. Didn’t want to disturb you and Emilio. How is he doing now?"  
"Okay. Sleeping a lot. The doctor thinks he’ll only be there for a few days at most, though."  
When Blaine finished washing the dishes, Kurt was still picking at what was left of his dinner, no longer  
hungry. "I’ll run you a bath, and then you can get some sleep," Blaine said, drying his hands.  
"You don’t have to do that. You should go home; it’s late."  
"It’s no trouble," Blaine insisted. "You took care of me. Now I’m going to take care of you." He headed  
toward the bathroom. In a minute Kurt could hear the water running and the sounds of Blaine opening  
and shutting drawers and cabinets. He cleared the last scraps of his food into the garbage and put the  
plate and his silverware in the dishwasher, then padded across the living room, feeling his fatigue all the  
way down to his bones.  
Blaine was adding Kurt’s favorite bath salts to the steaming tub when Kurt walked in. "I don’t know if you  
still take your baths the same way you did when we were together," he said. "I hope it’s okay." The water  
smelled blissful, floral and pleasantly dewy. There was a stack of fresh, fluffy towels resting on the edge of  
the counter, and a tinkling piano melody wafting quietly across the room from the Ipod dock Rachel  
normally used to blast show tunes for belting along with during her showers. Blaine stood next to the tub,  
looking up at Kurt with anxious eyes, waiting for his approval.  
"This is better than okay," Kurt started, taking in the scene. "Blaine, this is..." He couldn’t finish. Tears  
smarted at the corners of his eyes and he was so tired he couldn’t prevent them from trickling down over  
his cheeks.  
Blaine was quick to come to his rescue. "Hey," he said, stepping forward to embrace Kurt. "It’s alright.  
You’re alright. Emilio’s going to be fine." Kurt nodded into Blaine’s shoulder, but what Blaine didn’t  
understand was that Kurt wasn’t crying because of that.  
"Too many hospitals lately," Kurt choked out. It still wasn’t the reason for his tears.  
"Come on," Blaine said after a moment of Kurt sniveling into his collar. "Let’s get you into the tub, and  
you’ll feel better." He pulled back and unbuttoned Kurt’s vest, sliding it off his shoulders before folding it  
and setting it next to the pile of towels. Then he tugged the end of Kurt’s shirt out of his pants and started   
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on the buttons, working from Kurt’s neck down to his navel. He kept his eyes trained on Kurt’s, not  
watching his hands as they popped each button open. "Still with the layers," he murmured, and Kurt knew  
he was trying to get him to laugh, but it just made the tears begin to flow again. Here was Blaine, caring so  
delicately for him, with so much love in his eyes, not even trying to do anything sexually despite the fact  
that he was, when it came down to it, undressing Kurt. He couldn’t help but cry at Blaine’s tenderness, and  
at the feelings he knew he cradled within himself, but was too afraid to face.  
His emotions were overwhelming. Confusing. But for now he let them linger in the back of his mind, too  
exhausted to address them. Instead, he detached, allowing Blaine guide him to the tub with sure hands,  
allowing himself to sink into the frothy water. Blaine wiped the tears from Kurt’s face with the warm  
washcloth before brushing his fingers lightly over his cheek, and he closed the door considerately behind  
himself when he left, leaving Kurt to wrestle with his troubling thoughts.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Seventeen  
2021  
One week before Rachel’s due date, Blaine showed up at the bistro Kurt had rented out for her shower,  
holding a gift wrapped in glittery purple paper under his arm. The party was already in full swing- Blaine  
had needed a shower after working in the suburbs, landscaping most of the day. He had dawdled a bit  
after that, looking into teaching jobs on his computer. Without the cocaine clouding his vision, Blaine  
realized now how much he wanted to be an educator, remembered how he had fought his parents for it,  
and realigned himself with his career goals. Unsurprisingly, nothing had panned out so far. As he had  
expected, a criminal record and a former drug addiction dashed his chances, but still, he was too  
embarrassed to tell anyone that he had been secretly applying to schools for the past week, hoping against  
hope.  
He entered the tiny restaurant, congested with people, and soon found Rachel at a back table, surrounded  
by a group of friends and basking in the glow of their attention. "Any day now," she said as he approached.  
"And I am ready to get this kid out of here! She’s a terrible houseguest, let me tell you. Which she must get  
from her father-" her voice rose as she craned her neck to catch Kurt’s attention over at the next table-  
"because I, for one, would never treat my host this way."  
"No one pushes the Hummels around," Kurt called with a playful, sarcastically apologetic shrug. Rachel  
laughingly waved him off, and he returned to his conversation with Emilio.  
"Seriously," Rachel ranted, "My back aches, my feet are swollen, I have to pee all the time, and Blaine  
Anderson, I thought you’d never show up!" She beamed at him as he broke through the circle of her  
admirers, and out of the corner of his eye, Blaine could see Kurt glance up from his table with interest.  
"I wouldn’t miss it, Rachel," he said, handing her the purple present and placing a kiss on the top of her  
head. He got introduced, loudly, as "Blaine, a high school friend and third-best singer in our glee club" to a  
horde of people whose names he promptly forgot, watched as Rachel opened his gift and she and her  
friends cooed over the star-patterned blanket, received a hug and a sloppy kiss to his cheek, and  
eventually found himself jostled in the direction of Kurt’s table.  
Kurt stood to greet him. "Hi," he said, enveloping Blaine in a hug that was a little too raw, clutching at his  
shoulders. "There’s food over on the buffet table. Or- there was, anyway," he added, looking over at the   
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decimated remains of their dinner. "You can probably piece together something from what’s left."  
"Thanks. I’m starving. Alright, Emilio?" Blaine said, nodding at Kurt’s fiancé where he sat.  
Emilio nodded back. "Getting there," he said.  
"He still needs some help getting around," Kurt said in an undertone. "But he’s been steadily improving."  
"I can hear you, I’m sitting right here," Emilio teased, tickling at Kurt’s ribs.  
Kurt swatted at his hand with a napkin and moved out of his reach. "Stop that, you," he said, his tone  
breezy and fun. But he reddened and folded his arms over his chest and Blaine had the peculiar feeling  
that Kurt was uncomfortable for some reason. "You should go eat, don’t let us keep you," Kurt said, and  
Blaine blinked, remembering the buffet table.  
"Oh, right. I’ll see what I can scavenge."  
Once he had scrapped together a reasonable plate for himself, Blaine found a spare table and sat down to  
eat in peace. However, fate was not on his side, because Santana soon joined him. "Seen any hotties to take  
home?" she asked nonchalantly, folding herself into the chair opposite him in her usual casually seductive  
way.  
Blaine shrugged, forcing himself to keep his eyes away from Kurt’s table. "Not really." He reached for his  
can of Pepsi.  
"The one you want’s taken, isn’t he?"  
Blaine choked on his soda. "What?"  
Santana raised an eyebrow, amused, as he fumbled for his napkin. "You haven’t been bringing any guys  
around anymore. I’ve noticed."  
"I guess I’m turning over a new leaf," Blaine said once his coughing was under control.  
"In fact, the last time you brought a guy home was- let’s see- early June. It’s been nearly five months.   
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That’s got to be a record."  
"This coming from the girl who used to sleep with a different football jock every week," Blaine retorted  
good-naturedly, now that his system had adjusted to the Santana sneak attack.  
It wasn’t to last, though. "You and Kurt met each other again in June," Santana said knowingly, and Blaine  
suddenly didn’t care for the direction of this conversation. "You haven’t slept with anyone since he came  
back into your life."  
"So?"  
"Are you in love with him?"  
Blaine had his second coughing fit of the evening. "Well, I, uh," he stuttered.  
"Answer the question, Blaine." Santana had her interrogator eyes on.  
"I mean, I can’t, well, you see-"  
"Answer the question! Before I get Pixie over here to deal with you!"  
He might as well have been in a detective movie with a lamp shining into his eyes. "Yes, okay?" he  
exclaimed. "I think I am. Jeez, you must be a force to be reckoned with in the court room. I hope to hell I  
never have to sit on a witness stand in one of your cases."  
"That’s why they pay me the big bucks," Santana said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfactory grin on  
her face. "So, you’ve fallen for moon face again. Can’t say I didn’t see that one coming."  
"You should have stopped me, then," Blaine replied, viciously stabbing at his chicken.  
"And where would the fun in that be? Love triangles are my crack." Blaine looked up at her, questioning  
her word choice, but she unceasingly carried on. "They’re drama just waiting to happen. I should knowI’ve dealt with enough of them. The Finn-Quinn-Rachel triangle of 2009 still holds the title as most  
sickening, but you might get an honorary mention if this turns out to be good."  
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"You’re welcome, Santana," Blaine said sarcastically, pushing his food around on the plate. "I’m glad I can  
provide some entertainment for you. But it won’t be much, because I don’t even have a chance. Kurt and  
Emilio are getting married in a month, and they obviously love each other." He chanced a peek at Kurt’s  
table, where he was still wrapped in conversation with his fiancé.  
Santana flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Hey, it ain’t over until the confetti canons explode or the  
pyramid collapses." Blaine gave her a quizzical eye at this. "Sue Sylvester," she explained with a wave of  
her hand. "What I mean is, the way I see it, you still have a month left to fight for him."  
Blaine huffed out a breath, an attempt at laughter. "Yeah, right. I don’t even want to imagine what could  
happen if either of them find out about how I feel. And Kurt’s happy with Emilio. I’m not going to ruin that  
for him. I’m not worth taking that huge of a risk on, anyway. I mean, a successful shop owner and costume  
designer, versus a washed-up recovering addict with a landscaping job? It’s obvious who’s better suited  
for him. Who he deserves."  
Santana just pursed her lips at Blaine. "He might disagree," she said. "He watched you walk all the way  
over here. Whenever he’s not looking at Emilio, he’s looking at you. Case in point: he’s been sneaking  
glances at you this entire time. Can’t take his eyes off you." She reached over, took a cookie from the edge  
of his plate, and sauntered off to find her girlfriend.  
March 2017  
Blaine didn’t know what had come over him. Maybe it was the three shots, making him loose and  
uninhibited, maybe it was the lines of coke coursing through his veins, filling him with energy and  
confidence. Maybe it was the darkness, the crowd appearing only in the brief flashes of the pink lights. It  
could be because he was so comfortable here, at The Dark Room, his most frequented club. Or perhaps it  
was the pressure building in his head, two months of college to go, student teaching, lesson plans, stupid  
meaningless goals- Blaine wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.  
Whatever it was, he pulled himself up onto the stage as the exotic dancer disappeared behind the curtains.  
Sauntering to center stage, music and drugs and drinks leading him on, he danced, casting unseeing eyes  
over the crowd. Laughter and whistles echoed among the steady undercurrent of chatter, but Blaine  
barely registered them as he slowly removed his shirt. He lifted it over his head and threw it into the  
darkness. The music pulsed through him, making everything liquid-lovely, as he thrusted his hips,  
threaded his hands through his hair, and teased them down his naked torso, making a beeline for his   
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pants. More catcalls, a few bills tossed at his feet. He had just undone the button of his jeans when he felt a  
large, heavy hand clap him on the shoulder and direct him stiffly in the direction of the stairs leading to  
the floor. He looked around, snapped out of his dreamlike state.  
It was Tony, the club owner, who often let him in for half the entry fee because he knew Blaine would  
more than make it up in drink purchases. Blaine allowed Tony to guide him off the stage, money and shirt  
abandoned. They stopped walking at the bottom of the steps, next to a part in the curtains, and another  
dancer, glittery and costumed, took Blaine’s place on stage. "Hey, Blaine," Tony said, "I can’t have you  
doing that. That’s what I have paid entertainment for."  
"Sorry," Blaine mumbled. "Wasn’t thinking, I guess. I’ll stop."  
"You high?"  
Blaine nodded. "I wasn’t going to, but someone offered-"  
Tony grasped his shoulders. "Just keep it on the down-low," he said firmly. "And between you and me- can  
I be frank?"  
Blaine nodded again. He hoped he wasn’t about to be kicked out or banned from the club.  
But Tony didn’t tell him to leave. "Not bad, up there. With a bit of training, you could be a first-rate  
dancer."  
Blaine burst out laughing. "The last time I was on stage, it was for a high school choir competition," he said  
when he had controlled himself.  
Tony snorted. "Well, let me tell you, that was no choir boy up there. Unless you want to be. Pretty sure I’ve  
got a costume for that."  
"Thanks for the laugh, Tony. It won’t happen again." Blaine started to walk back toward the crowd. He  
could feel himself starting to come down from his high, and needed to find the guy who had offered him  
the coke earlier.  
"I could get you a gig," Tony said, and Blaine stopped, turning to gape at him. "We could start you out a few   
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nights a week until you learn the ropes. The other guys could teach you. You wouldn’t have to do full  
nudity if you aren’t comfortable with it, even."  
Blaine actually considered it for a second before realizing how absurd the whole thing was. Here he was,  
about to graduate with a degree in Education, of all things. He spent most of the day deciphering  
Shakespeare for bored fourteen-year-olds, and Tony wanted him to do this by night? He started to chuckle  
again just thinking about it.  
"I guess that’s a no," Tony said, smiling. "See you around, Blaine."  
2021  
After the shower, Kurt sat on the sofa in his living room, surrounded by piles of gifts, giving Rachel a foot  
rub. "Can we have a lady chat?" he asked. "I need some advice."  
She smiled fondly, half asleep already. "Like old times."  
"Like old times," Kurt agreed.  
"Yeah, okay," she said, stretching her arms above her head. "What’s up?"  
"Well..." Kurt started, searching for the words. He decided it would be best to just get it all out in the open.  
"What would you do if you were about to get married, and you thought you were happy with your fiancé,  
until someone else came into your life who you think you might be falling for again?"  
Rachel merely stared up at him for a moment. Then, "Oh, honey. Blaine?" she asked.  
Kurt nodded. "I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Emilio is so good to me. There’s absolutely no reason  
for me to question our relationship."  
"Maybe it’s just wedding jitters?" Rachel rubbed her stomach idly.  
"I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore."  
"Does Emilio know about this?"  
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"Sort of. I don’t think he’s totally aware of it, but he’s perceptive. He told me that Blaine is my passion, long  
before I was even aware that I was starting to have feelings for him again."  
"Blaine is your passion?" Rachel repeated, brows furrowed.  
"Like the stage is your passion," Kurt explained.  
"It’s what I live for."  
"Exactly. Like I can picture myself going about my life, in the future, without Emilio. I can picture us  
married, but I can picture myself without him, too. But when I think about Blaine, I can’t see myself losing  
him again and being okay with that. I don’t know what to do."  
"Have you discussed it with Blaine? How does he feel?"  
"We haven’t talked about it. But he looks at me the way he used to, Rachel. And we nearly kissed a few  
weeks ago, before he came to his senses and stopped it, thank goodness."  
She raised her eyebrows so high they were lost in her bangs. "You almost kissed? And he was the one who  
prevented it from happening?"  
"Yeah. What?"  
Rachel wiggled her toes where they rested on Kurt’s lap. He had stopped rubbing her feet. He sighed and  
kneaded his fingers into her swollen skin again. "Well," Rachel said, "it’s just interesting, considering that  
Blaine is the guy who basically cheated on you. And that’s not the type of person you want to be with.  
Believe me, I’ve been there."  
Kurt frowned. "I thought you were the one who cheated on Finn."  
She rolled her eyes, twiddled her fingers. "That whole relationship was a mess."  
"And Blaine didn’t cheat on me, not exactly. We were on a break- we never laid any sort of rules about  
dating other guys during that time. I didn’t think he’d actually go ahead and sleep with someone else,  
though."  
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Rachel folded her fingers over her stomach. "And yet he did."  
"So what are you saying? He doesn’t know how to commit to a relationship? Are you telling me I should  
forget about my feelings for him?" He switched to her other foot.  
"No. I would never suggest you ignore your feelings. You can’t walk around bottling up your emotions like  
that. And I do think Blaine can handle a dedicated relationship- he was able to commit to you for five years  
before that slip-up, wasn’t he?"  
Kurt could feel his frown increasing with every sentence. "So you think I should leave Emilio? Or postpone  
the wedding until I figure this out?"  
"No. It’s a bit risky to throw away what you have with Emilio over one almost-kiss and feelings youthink  
you might be experiencing. Maybe it’s just for nostalgia’s sake, who knows?"  
"I’m sorry," Kurt said, "but you’re not exactly helping. You’re just making me more confused." He leaned  
over, kissed her stomach, and set her feet down on the couch as he stood and stretched. "I’m going to get  
some sleep and, with any luck, clear my mind. Good night, Rachel. Night, Toast baby."  
When Kurt wove through the mounds of gifts piled in the living room and reached the entrance to the  
hallway, he paused, turning back. Rachel was digging in the couch cushions for the television remote.  
"When I was dating Blaine," he said, and she looked up, "I was sure he was the one. That’s why I was so  
shocked and then depressed when we broke up. That kind of relationship, that whole soulmate, starcrossed connection sort of thing- it’s one in a million. I didn’t think I would ever find that again."  
"But you did."  
"Yes. But not with Emilio."  
***  
Kurt woke in the middle of the night to see Rachel’s face hovering inches away from his own and  
practically fell out of bed. He quickly gathered up the blankets where they had slipped.  
"Um, Kurt, if these aren’t contractions I don’t want to know what they’re actually like," Rachel was saying.  
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"Contractions?" he said hazily. Saying the word made everything click and come into focus in his head.  
"Contractions! You’re having the baby?"  
"Pretty sure. I timed them and called the doctor, and he said it would be a good idea to get to the hospital."  
She suddenly squeezed her face into a grimace and clenched the edge of Kurt’s mattress.  
"Another one?" Rachel nodded once, her eyes tightly shut. "Okay, I’m up, I’m up," Kurt said, throwing aside  
the covers. He had never gotten dressed so quickly in his life, barely stopping to consider whether his  
pants worked with his top. He didn’t even bother with any hair product, instead simply sweeping a brush  
through his locks a few times for good measure. At the door, he stooped to pick up the bag that had been  
sitting there for the past several weeks, packed and waiting to accompany them to the hospital. In a  
matter of minutes they had hailed a cab and were on their way.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Eighteen  
2021  
Rose Barbra Hummel-Berry was born at ten forty-five in the morning on November second, precisely one  
week before her due date. She came out with a head of fuzzy dark hair, gray-blue eyes, and little rosebud  
lips. When she was placed on Rachel’s stomach a second later, she wailed to high heaven, waving her tiny  
arms. Kurt said, "She’s a singer," and pressed his lips to Rachel’s sweaty forehead.  
When Kurt held his daughter for the first time, his entire world zeroed in on Rosie’s face. With her in his  
arms, he felt absolute, like she had always belonged there, like she was a piece of him that had been  
missing and finally came home. He blinked back tears at his sheer awe. Here was something utterly pure  
and perfect in a world of fear and anger, and she was a part of him. Rachel and he had created this  
beautiful human being, and if he had ever wondered at the meaning of life, the answer was to be found in  
his daughter’s eyes. Overwhelmed, Kurt looked at Rachel, where she lay gazing dreamily from the bed, and  
whispered, "Thank you."  
Emilio and Blaine were texted with the good news of a successful delivery and a healthy baby and mother,  
and both were quick to respond with congratulations and promises to visit the hospital to see Rose as  
soon as they could. While Rachel was resting, Kurt phoned his father. "Congratulations, you’re a  
grandfather," he said before Burt could get more than a "hey, kiddo," out, his voice overflowing with  
happiness.  
"Rachel had the baby?"  
"Not more than forty five minutes ago. Perfect delivery, everyone’s fine, and she’s just beautiful, Dad."  
"I’m a granddad! Finn, Finn, come here, the baby’s arrived!"  
Kurt chuckled at his father’s excitement. He could picture him in his coveralls at the tire shop, waving over  
his similarly-clad stepbrother. Finn’s voice came over the line. "Congrats, bro," he said. "You and Rachel  
will have to send us a picture."  
"Thanks, Finn. I will, as soon as I hang up."  
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His father’s voice cut through again. "What’s her name, huh, Kurt?"  
Kurt smiled warmly. This was the part he had been most eager to tell Burt. "Rose," he said.  
"Rose? Like-"  
"Like Mom, yeah."  
There was a lengthy pause on the other end of the line. Kurt could hear fabric shuffling, drills buzzing, and  
clinking tools in the background. Then there was a loud sniff and Burt’s voice, somewhat choked, sounded  
again. "Great. I’m so proud of you, kid. Congrats."  
"Thanks, Dad. Love you, and I can’t wait for you to meet her."  
"Me too. I love you, son. Make sure Rachel knows we’re thinking of her, too, okay?"  
"I will. And give Carole my love when you see her."  
"I will," Burt echoed before hanging up.  
***  
Rosie’s first few weeks on Earth were filled with new experiences, for both herself and her parents. She  
was visited at the hospital on day one by both of her "uncles," as Rachel referred to them. Emilio declared  
her a wonder and Blaine, as he held her, told Kurt, "She looks like you." Burt and Carole, Shelby, and the  
two mister Berrys were Skyped and met their granddaughter through computer monitors. Santana and  
Pixie dropped by the apartment on Rachel and Rosie’s first day home with veggie lasagna and rolled-up  
sleeves, ready to pitch in on the house work. The days soon became a whirlwind of new parent  
apprehension- when Kurt and Rachel realized they were responsible for a life and had been given no  
instructions, when Rosie cried during her first bath, when Kurt didn’t know how to gauge the proper  
temperature of a bottle and worried about burning his daughter. There was joy, too- taking Rosie for her  
first walk, marveling as she changed daily before their eyes, quiet cozy moments as a family. And there  
was plenty of stress- nighttime feedings, the insanity of Kurt’s steadily approaching wedding while caring  
for a newborn. He was beginning to wonder if he was crazy for suggesting, months ago, that they "do  
everything at once" and setting the wedding date for a month after Rosie’s due date. On top of it all, Rachel   
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came up with the idea to spend a big Thanksgiving in cabins in upstate New York, insisting she was  
"nothing if not resilient" and could handle it with her now three-week-old baby. She took to inviting  
everyone within earshot and before he knew it, Kurt was dragged into her madness.  
Just a few days before they were scheduled to leave for the Adirondacks, Kurt arrived home from work,  
fiancé in tow, just as Rachel approached from the other end of the hallway, carrying Rosie in her sling.  
"How are my girls today?" Kurt asked, kissing each on the cheek before unlocking the door to the  
apartment.  
"We’re just fine. Kurt, guess who we ran into today?" Rachel replied, stepping into the entryway.  
"Who?" He handed his satchel to Emilio, who set it down near the door. "I get some Rosie time now," he  
added, taking her from Rachel.  
"Dave Karofsky." They all walked over to the couch to sit down.  
"Really? What’s he doing in the city?"  
"Vacationing with his boyfriend, apparently. He introduced me."  
"Who’s Dave Karofsky?" Emilio asked, tickling Rosie’s little stomach.  
"Someone from high school," Kurt said off-handedly, not missing the twitch in Rachel’s expression at his  
words. "So he’s dating someone?"  
"Yeah," Rachel said, slightly edgy. "They seemed very happy together."  
"That’s great. I’m so glad he found someone."  
"You should have seen him, Kurt. He saw Rosie and asked me if Finn and I finally ‘shacked up.’ When I said  
you were her father, he said, ‘Seriously? Don’t tell me he decided he’s straight after all that.’"  
Kurt laughed. "Now that would be ironic."  
"Exactly," Rachel said. "After everything he put you through, everything he went through too-"  
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"What do you mean, ‘everything he put you through?’" Emilio cut in.  
"Nothing," Kurt squeaked. "She doesn’t mean anything."  
"Kurt got bullied a lot in high school," Rachel said tentatively. Kurt knew she was trying to smooth over  
the conversation for him, but it only made Emilio question him more, if anything.  
"Yeah, but not by other gay kids," Emilio said, eyes shifting between Rachel and Kurt. "Wait a minute- I  
thought you were the only gay kid in your school until Blaine joined you."  
"Not exactly. I said I was the only out gay kid." Kurt looked down at Rosie, nestled in the crook of his arm.  
"So this Dave Kartovski or whatever was gay? But he bullied you? That doesn’t make sense."  
"It’s not a big deal anymore. It was years ago. We’ve long since buried it." At Emilio’s unceasing  
questioning stare, Kurt continued, sighing. "He shoved me into lockers, slushied me, threw me into  
dumpsters, kissed me-"  
"Excuse me, what? Kissed you?" Emilio looked incredulous.  
"He was really confused and hurting at the time-"  
Emilio cut him off. "I thought Blaine was your first kiss."  
"Well, yeah, he was. He was the first one that counted."  
"They all count!"  
"Technically speaking, his first kiss was Brittany Pierce," Rachel interrupted pointedly.  
Emilio seemed hurt. "Why did you hide this from me?" he asked.  
Kurt defended himself. "You asked me about my first kiss on our first date! We had just met. I wasn’t going  
to drop that bomb on you right off the bat."  
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"But we’ve been dating for months now. I’m your goddam fiancé. What else don’t I know?" Emilio didn’t  
come right out and say it, but Kurt felt sure there was more to his words, more that was unasked, beneath  
the surface. He was sure Emilio was actually telling him, I know you’re not being honest. I know how you  
feel about Blaine, and I know that you’re hiding it from me.  
"You know it all, Emilio," he said, feeling tremendously guilty, knowing it was an outright lie. He didn’t  
dare look at Rachel, sure she would give away the truth if he did. "I didn’t mention that kiss because I  
don’t like to think about it, and because it’s not important anymore. When I think about my first kiss, I  
really do think about my first kiss with Blaine. I don’t even consider Dave, or Brittany, because they didn’t  
mean anything."  
Emilio was silent, but Kurt wasn’t sure that his words had soothed him. "Come on," he said, standing and  
handing Rosie to Rachel. "Let’s forget about it, okay? We have to get you dressed and made up for your  
Night Before the Night Before Thanksgiving Show." He took his fiancé’s hand and pulled him, grudgingly,  
up from the couch.  
May 2017  
The next time Blaine was on stage, it was for his college graduation. He received his diploma, threw his  
cap into the air, and clapped at the closing remarks from the dean with everyone else. Sweating in his  
heavy academic gown, the muggy air feeling more like mid-summer than late spring, he located his  
parents in the midst of the assembled family members and friends.  
The Andersons had come from Ohio for the first time in the four years of Blaine’s college education. There  
was his mother, tiny but formidable, her coiffed black hair shining in the sun. And his father, gray suit,  
gray hair, gray expression, checking his watch irritably. When he reached them, his mother grabbed for  
his diploma, exclaiming, "Let’s see it, then!" and his father smiled briefly and said, "Well done, son," as the  
other families milled around them with excitement.  
Later that day, they took Blaine out for a fancy dinner at a classy restaurant one of his mother’s friends  
had recommended. It was in a high-rise, and they were shown to a quiet corner table with views over the  
city. Blaine watched the sun setting over the buildings, blocking out most of the conversation,  
participating only when he was required to answer. His parents were filled in on the details of his life- the  
ones he chose to give- when they asked. Yes, he enjoyed his student teaching (he hadn’t.) He had finished  
with a GPA of 3.7 (it had actually been the minimum GPA requirement for his major, 3.4.) No, he hadn’t   
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landed a job yet, but he was looking (he wasn’t.)  
Then came the topic he had been dreading all day. His father said it so indifferently as he cut his steak,  
revealing none of the disapproval Blaine knew he harbored. "And your personal life," he said, all formal  
business. Here we go, Blaine thought, suddenly wishing he had some coke on him, or was at least drinking  
something stronger than wine. "What about that boy you’re seeing?" his father continued, and it took  
Blaine a second to realize that he meant Kurt.  
"Kurt, Dad," Blaine replied, focusing on his pasta. "He had a name."  
His mother looked up. "Had?" she asked. "Did I hear that correctly?"  
Blaine sighed. "We broke up. Last year."  
"That long ago? And we’re just finding out about it now?" She sipped her wine. "Thank you for keeping  
your mother informed."  
"Come on, Mom," Blaine said, putting his fork down and leaning back in his chair.  
"You claim you were dating this boy for years, before college, even, and we never met him once. You were  
even living with him, Blaine."  
"Look, it’s not like that. You never exactly expressed any interest in meeting him until now." His mother  
huffed, plucking at her blouse. "Mom, it’s not like I tried to cut you out of my life or anything," Blaine  
added. "It’s just, we hardly ever talk anymore, and even when we do neither of you want to talk about  
anything remotely implying that your son is, god forbid, gay."  
"Don’t you pull that card, son," his father interjected. "The least you could do is keep us updated."  
Blaine tipped forward again, resting his elbows on the table. "Even if you had wanted to meet him, I don’t  
know if I would have been okay with it. I’d be too ashamed at your reaction. I know how you guys felt  
about him. You never even gave him a chance."  
"Elbows off the table, dear," his mother said automatically. Blaine didn’t move.  
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"And for good reason," his father continued, refusing to let the conversation die. "We knew you only came  
out here for that boy, and we warned you that it was the wrong decision. Now look where it’s gotten you.  
Such a waste."  
"Dad, we’ve had this discussion before, many, many times. I didn’t want to go to Harvard. I didn’t want to  
go to Yale. I didn’t want to major in law or business or medicine. I know you think teaching’s a shitty  
degree-"  
"Watch your language."  
"-Because it means I’m not going to be rich, and I’m not going to be some prominent society guy, and I’m  
not going to uphold the Anderson legacy, or whatever. But I didn’t come to the city just for Kurt. I had to  
carve my own path." Blaine didn’t add that part of the reason he had settled on NYU was to get away from  
them.  
"Well, be that as it may, I think we can all agree now that if you had gone Ivy League, you wouldn’t have  
been intelligent enough to survive, seeing as you just barely squeaked by here. Honestly, a 3.7. Perhaps  
you’re right, Blaine. I should learn to set myself up for disappointment."  
It took every ounce of him not to slam his fists into the table. The last thing he needed was to cause a  
scene, to draw attention to his disaster of a family, to have total strangers take pity on them or use them to  
feel better about their own lives. Instead, Blaine gritted his teeth and forced himself to pick up his utensils  
again. Jesus, he really needed some coke right now.  
"Well, Robert," his mother said after a minute of tense silence that went on far longer than Blaine would  
have liked. "I think we should be proud of Blaine. There are quite a few parents who have to deal with  
much worse. Why, Blaine could have dropped out, or not gone at all. Or worse, he could be a drug addictthat’s what happened to Missy Elliott’s daughter, she just got overwhelmed by her school work at  
Princeton and succumbed to common vices."  
Blaine felt his cheeks burning, but made no comment. Neither did his father. The dinner from hell dragged  
on until his mother spoke again. "You know, Blaine, dear, now that you aren’t involved with anyone,  
perhaps it’s time you grew out of this-" she leaned forward as if indulging him in a secret, her voice  
dropping- "being gay business. Missy Elliott has another daughter, just about your age, I believe, at  
Stanford. Now, Stanford isn’t quite Ivy League, but it’s perfectly respectable. Perhaps I could suggest her   
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as a suitable match. I have Missy’s contact information in my purse, if you’d like it."  
His father patted his mouth with his napkin. "Ah, yes- Jessica, I believe? A fine girl."  
No, Blaine took it back- it wasn’t the dinner from hell, it was the dinner from hell frozen over. "I can’t  
believe we’re going there again." He rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. "Mom, I. Am. Gay. It’s  
not a phase, I wasn’t brainwashed, and being with Kurt isn’t what made me it. I was gay before him, and  
I’m still gay after him, whether I’m in a relationship with a guy or not at all!"  
"Blaine, please keep your voice down," she hissed, eyes flying around the restaurant. "I was merely  
suggesting you try dating a girl, that’s all." Blaine clenched his fists underneath the table. He wished they  
would just finish their expensive meals and get back on the plane to Ohio so he could be rid of them. "I just  
want what’s best for you, Blaine," his mother continued, looking slightly wounded. "I just want you to have  
what everyone else has- to find success in your career, settle down with a nice girl, raise a family. Is that  
too much to ask?"  
"I’m sorry," Blaine said. "I’m sorry, but I can’t believe I came out of you, was a part of you. I can’t believe I  
was raised by you," he said, turning to his father. "We’re just so different. And it’s clear to me that we’re  
never going to see eye to eye. So can we please just finish eating and say our goodbyes and go back to our  
separate lives?"  
He had never spelled it out like that before, but all three of them knew it was the truth. His parents didn’t  
answer him, silenced after his speech. Instead, they listened to what Blaine said. The three of them  
finished eating, said their goodbyes, and his parents returned to Ohio, while Blaine remained in New York,  
neither reaching out to contact the other any longer.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Nineteen  
2021  
Initially, Rachel’s list of guests for what was turning into the upstate Thanksgiving extravaganza for the  
ages was just herself, Rosie, Kurt, Emilio, Burt, and Carole. Her fathers couldn’t attend because they were  
on their annual Rosie O’Donnell cruise. But before long, Finn and his wife, Amy, were added, and then  
Santana and Pixie invited themselves, and then Blaine reluctantly joined as well. Their reasons were all  
their own- Burt, Carole, and Finn wanted to meet the baby in person and would then be vacationing in the  
city through the upcoming wedding, Kurt and Emilio deserved a break from the craziness of last-minute  
wedding planning, Rachel convinced Blaine he needed to get out of the city, and Santana and Pixie had  
nowhere else to go.  
Little did Rachel know that her reasoning wasn’t all that had persuaded Blaine to join them. Santana had  
something to do with it as well. When she asked him if he was going, he told her he felt like he didn’t  
belong in what was, at the time, mainly a family affair. He didn’t want to be an extra wheel. Santana,  
perceptive as ever, quickly came to realize Blaine didn’t want to tag along and be reminded of the  
upcoming wedding he felt powerless to stop. "You want him? Go get him. Before it’s too late," she said  
firmly.  
"It’s two weeks until they get married. I don’t think there’s any hope at this point, Santana," Blaine replied  
miserably. "I’m pretty sure Kurt is aware of how I feel by now, and since he hasn’t acted on it, I just have to  
accept that he’s in love with Emilio and things will never be like they were when we were together. At  
least I get to be a part of his life. I’d rather be his friend than nothing at all, and I’m not going to risk his  
friendship by trying for something more."  
Santana crossed her arms, classic bitch face in place. "If you ask me-"  
"I didn’t."  
"-I’d say there’s something more there already. You two are both just too stupid to man up and deal with  
it. Don’t think I don’t notice. He looks at you the same way he did in high school, Blaine. You guys make  
excuses to spend time together. When you’re not around, he talks about you like you’re the most  
fascinating person on the planet. And trust me, you’re not that interesting."  
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And then there was that time we almost kissed... But Blaine shoved the thought away.  
"I’m going to tell you a story," Santana continued when Blaine just looked at her apprehensively. "It’s  
called ‘Santana never got her shit together and that’s why it didn’t work out with Brittany.’"  
"I already know that story. I was there, remember?"  
"The point I’m trying to make is that we could have been more than just sort-of lovers, but I was too much  
of a screw up to make a real effort."  
"Brittany wasn’t engaged to someone else. That kind of complicates things, don’t you think?"  
Santana sighed dramatically. "Will you stop shooting down everything I say?" she said, irritated. "Just  
listen to me. Can I be real with you?"  
Blaine shrugged. Santana took it as an invitation to keep talking. "I always have and always will love  
Brittany. Not romantically anymore- I’ve grown and moved on from that- but she was there for me when  
no one else was, and I’ll always love her for that. Even though she’s in California now, I still consider her  
my best friend and honestly, my soulmate." Blaine raised his eyebrows at her. "I know it seems weird not  
to say that about Pixie, and don’t get me wrong, my heart belongs to her," Santana added. "Sappy, yeah,  
but I think it’s possible to be soulmates without being romantically attached. Kurt is your soulmate,  
Blaine. Whether or not you end up together, he’s your soulmate."  
"But you think we should be together. Or you think I should at least try," Blaine prompted.  
"I think it’s more mutual than you think. That’s all. You’re coming on this trip."  
With that settled, they all left on Wednesday afternoon, not long after the Hummels and Hudsons had  
arrived in New York. Santana, Pixie, Rachel, Rosie, and Blaine piled into one rental car, and Kurt took the  
wheel of the larger van, with his fiance and the out-of-towners in tow. Five hours later, they reached an  
idyllic set of cabins by a lakeside in the Adirondacks. It was late, after eleven, and most of their luggage  
and supplies were left in the back of the cars as they all trudged to the cabins to get a good night’s sleep in  
preparation for Thanksgiving the following day.  
"Blaine has a migraine," Rachel told Kurt as he sorted out the keys, handing one to Pixie and another to   
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Carole. "It started maybe an hour ago. Pixie, he should probably stay in you and Santana’s cabin, since it’ll  
be quieter with less people."  
"Do you get them often?" Carole asked Blaine as he gingerly stepped out of the car. "I don’t remember you  
having trouble with migraines before."  
"Occasionally," Blaine gritted out, holding a hand to his forehead.  
"Did you bring some Advil or Tylenol with you? I’ve got some in my suitcase if you need it. A nurse is  
always prepared."  
"Rachel gave me some on the way up," Blaine replied.  
"Alright, dear. Lots of rest, and let me know if I can help," Carole said, patting his arm. Pixie, Santana, and  
Blaine took the cabin nearest the woods. Rachel and a blessedly sound-asleep Rosie soon headed for the  
one closest to the lake.  
Kurt told Emilio, "I’ll be there in a minute, I just want to get my parents settled," and sent him after Rachel  
and Rosie with a chaste kiss.  
"Is Blaine okay?" Finn asked Kurt, when just the Hudson and Hummel family members remained. "I mean,  
not just the migraine stuff. He just seems- off. Different than I remember."  
Kurt helped his father unload a duffel bag from the back of the van. "You know he’s been through a lot. Of  
course he’s going to seem different."  
"You’re sure he’s off the drugs?" Burt asked, slinging the bag over his shoulder.  
"He’s been clean for months, Dad. You should have seen him then- it was awful. He’s much better now.  
Please, all of you, just give him another chance. Try trusting him. I did."  
"Well, if there’s one thing I trust, it’s your judgment," Burt said. "If you think he’s back to normal, then I’ll  
give him a shot."  
"Thanks, Dad."  
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"Yeah, okay," Finn agreed.  
"Big day tomorrow. Let’s all get some rest," Carole said, effectively ending the discussion. "Though I bet  
you’ll be up a few times with Rosie tonight, won’t you, Kurt?" she added, a tinge of amusement in her  
voice. "I’m glad those days are long over for me." She reached up to pinch Finn’s cheek and he swatted her  
away. Burt, Carole, Finn, and Amy took the last unoccupied cabin, in between the other two. Kurt went to  
join Emilio, and sure enough, Carole’s prediction came true- only a few hours of sleep later, he was waking  
to feed his daughter.  
***  
Thanksgiving morning dawned and the group split. Burt, Finn, and Emilio spent the morning outside,  
focused on getting everything prepared for the hike around the lake they had planned- everyone would be  
setting off that afternoon following Thanksgiving dinner, spending the night in cabins across the lake, and  
returning on Friday. Only Kurt, Rachel, and Rosie would remain, since it wasn’t practical to hike with  
Rosie in tow. Blaine, too, would be left behind if his migraine didn’t improve- he spent the morning holed  
up in his cabin with the blinds shut. The kitchen of Kurt’s cabin, on the contrary, was a blur of movement  
and color as he, Carole, Amy, Santana, Pixie, and Rachel all pitched in with the cooking.  
By mid-afternoon the entire group came back together to sit down for their homespun Thanksgiving feast.  
The boys came inside to wash up, the girls and Kurt set the table, and Blaine emerged from next door with  
the announcement that his migraine was subsiding. A card table was added to the end of the existing one  
to make room for everybody, candles and the fireplace were lit to bathe the cabin in a warm, rustic glow,  
and before long the atmosphere was light and merry as serving dishes were passed from person to  
person, a bottle of wine was uncorked, and a football game played out on low volume on the T.V.  
Conversation came easily- those who still remained in Ohio provided updates on the goings-on in Lima,  
and the New Yorkers entertained them in turn with tales of life in the city.  
At one point Kurt caught a snippet of Blaine’s conversation with Burt and Carole. "What are you doing  
these days, son?" he heard his father ask. "Did you put that English degree to good use?"  
Kurt didn’t miss the awkward shift of Blaine’s shoulders as he came under the spotlight. "Well, I actually  
work landscaping," he told Burt. "But I’m applying to some other places."  
"Really?" Kurt cut in, unable to stop himself, as he reached across Carole for the cornbread. "You didn’t   
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mention that to me."  
"Yeah, I am," Blaine confirmed. "Schools," he added, acting as if it weren’t a big deal.  
"That’s great, Blaine! I hope something comes through." Kurt didn’t add that he felt it was unlikely for a  
school to hire Blaine, with his track record, but he didn’t want to discourage him.  
"And how are your parents? I don’t believe Burt and I ever met them," Carole said as she spooned string  
beans onto her plate.  
"No, I don’t think you did," Blaine replied uncomfortably. "They’re fine- I mean, I’m guessing they’re fine,  
since I haven’t heard otherwise."  
"What do you mean?" Finn asked from further down the table.  
Blaine’s head swivelled to stare at him, caught. "I don’t speak to them much anymore. Well, I haven’t  
spoken to them. Not since graduation."  
"But that has to have been- what?" Finn counted on his fingers. "Five years ago?"  
"Yeah. About that." Blaine looked down at his plate and half-heartedly pushed his knife around.  
"And what else is going on in your life? Any boyfriends we should know about?" Carole asked hurriedly.  
Kurt cringed. He knew she was trying to steer the conversation in a more positive direction, but,  
unbeknownst to her, it was a terrible choice of topic.  
"No," Blaine shortly replied. "You know what, I think my head might be acting up again. Think I’ll go lie  
down for a while." He pushed his chair back from the table and was already swinging the door open by the  
time he had attracted the attention of everyone else at the table.  
***  
Soon after dinner, everyone going on the hike left in order to make it to the cabins before nightfall. A few  
hours later, when it was dark out, Kurt scrapped together some of the leftovers and desserts and made a  
plate for Blaine. He threw on his coat and trekked over to Blaine’s cabin, leaving Rachel to sip her wine  
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and cuddle with Rosie in front of the fireplace.  
Blaine was huddled under a blanket in an armchair, curled into himself, watching the flames flickering in  
his cabin’s fireplace. Just his head was visible over the blanket, and all the lights were off. The fire  
illuminated the mess spread over the room- bunched up tissues and pieces of paper, bottles of aspirin and  
half-full glasses of water, extra pillows and blankets taken from the bedrooms and scattered over the  
couch.  
"Well, you certainly made a dent," Kurt said, sidling into the cabin and shutting out the chilly air. "We’ve  
only been here for a day." Blaine made no response except to shift his eyes from the fireplace to Kurt. "I  
made you a plate; I figured you might be hungry still," Kurt added, holding out the leftovers.  
"I’m not," Blaine said stiffly. "Thanks," he amended after a moment.  
Kurt set the plate down on the little side table at Blaine’s elbow. "I’ll just clean up a bit," he said, and went  
to grab the trash can from the kitchen. He could tell that Blaine was in a mood, and hoped he could get him  
to open up if he didn’t pry. So Kurt made his way around the living room, scooping up the tissues and  
papers, folding the blankets into a neat pile at one end of the couch, and returning the glasses to the  
dishwasher in the kitchen. Blaine remained silent and continued his staring match with the fire.  
When he was nearly finished, Kurt tripped over an acoustic guitar balanced against the side of the couch,  
catching it with his foot as he walked by. He rushed to grab it before it hit the wood floor. "Where did this  
come from?" he asked, and noticed an empty space on the wall near the fireplace. "Did you take this off the  
wall?"  
Blaine shrugged, and Kurt gently balanced the guitar back in place beside the mountain landscape  
paintings. "Okay, what’s up with you?" he finally asked, trying a new tactic and turning to Blaine with his  
hands on his hips. "I know you’re feeling better. You didn’t excuse yourself from dinner because of the  
migraine. Is it because of what my family was saying?"  
Blaine held Kurt’s gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes to the floor. "It just made me feel like such a  
failure," he said in a small voice.  
Kurt came closer and kneeled at Blaine’s feet, relenting at his words. "That’s not true. You’ve come so far,  
Blaine," he said softly. But Blaine wouldn’t look at him.  
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"It doesn’t sound like it, when it all adds up. I’m stuck in a dead-end job, I owe you and Santana and Rachel  
money for rehab-"  
"You don’t owe us anything. That was a gift."  
"I still have cravings, I have to see a freaking therapist, and I’m alone." Blaine shrugged the blanket off his  
shoulders so he could run a hand through his unruly hair, exhaling with frustration. He finally made eye  
contact with Kurt, and despite his words, there was fierce determination in his eyes, as if to say, beat that,  
or go ahead and try to prove me wrong.  
Kurt saw the fire flickering golden in Blaine’s hard-set eyes, saw the challenge there, and said, "You know  
what I think? Someone else would have relapsed. Someone else would have given up. But you’re stronger  
than you know. You’re going to make it."  
Blaine blinked, and a little bit of the fight in him died. He fished in his pocket, pulling out a folded, lined  
piece of paper. "Here," he said simply, handing it to Kurt.  
Kurt opened the paper up and read it in the light emanating from the fireplace. It was a list of seemingly  
random phrases, scrawled in Blaine’s messy handwriting:  
feel like I belong somewhere  
only give myself to people who deserve it  
be deserving of someone else  
stop beating myself up  
happiness  
Kurt  
He read it through twice. When Kurt looked up, Blaine was still watching him. "Blaine, what is this?" Kurt  
asked.  
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"Assignment for my therapist. A list of things I want to get out of life."  
Kurt read it through once more, lingering on the last item on the list. "Blaine," he said slowly, "I hope you  
know how important you are, how much you mean to all of us. How much you mean to me." He paused. "I  
want all of this for you, too, Blaine."  
"All of it?" Blaine whispered, his eyes shining with unshed tears.  
Kurt rose up on his knees and cupped Blaine’s cheek with his hand. He meant to say, I’m sorry. He meant  
to say, Yes, but we can’t have it all. Or, If only things had turned out differently. Instead, he leaned forward  
without speaking, without thinking, and kissed Blaine.  
It was over far too quickly. Blaine only responded for a moment before he pulled back suddenly,  
stammering, "I’m sorry, oh god, Kurt, I’m so sorry." Kurt shook his head, reaching again for Blaine’s face. "I  
said I wasn’t going to be that guy," Blaine went on, visibly distraught. "For once, I didn’t want to ruin  
everythi-" The rest of his words were lost, swallowed as Kurt lunged forward again and pressed their lips  
together.  
This time, Blaine melted into him after the initial shock, sighing almost imperceptibly. Kurt tested the  
waters, pulling back and placing tiny, gentle caresses on Blaine’s lips over and over again until Blaine  
relaxed completely. Blaine skimmed his hands across Kurt’s ribs before holding on and coaxing him closer,  
and Kurt deepened the kiss, tugging on the hair at the nape of Blaine’s neck to align their faces. Blaine  
gasped, and Kurt had a flash of remembrance- hair pulling, that was something Blaine liked. He used the  
opportunity of Blaine’s open mouth to his advantage, licking his way in until Blaine sucked on his tongue,  
and Kurt felt a moan build up in his chest and escape into Blaine’s mouth.  
He pulled himself up onto the armchair, straddling Blaine’s thighs and planting his hands on each side of  
Blaine’s head, never breaking the kiss. Blaine’s hands grasped his waist, trembled, and then shakily  
pushed him back. "Kurt, Kurt," Blaine breathed. "Kurt, wait. Wait."  
Kurt moved to trail a line of wet kisses down Blaine’s neck. "What?" He attached his lips to the spot where  
Blaine’s neck became his shoulder and sucked.  
"We have to stop. This is insane," Blaine said, even as he craned his neck to allow Kurt better access.  
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Kurt pulled away, sitting back on Blaine’s thighs. He noted the shiny, pink mark he had just made on  
Blaine’s skin, and realized his own hands were shoved up under Blaine’s shirt, resting on his warm chestwhen did that happen? Glancing down, he could see both of their obvious erections straining their pants,  
and he swallowed. Then he looked directly into Blaine’s lust-blown eyes. "Do you want to stop?" he said.  
Blaine hesitated, like he was wondering if it was a trick question. "No," he finally whispered. "But I don’t  
want to take advantage of you, either."  
Kurt rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly all the same. "That’s very chivalrous of you, but Blaine, I’m not  
some wilting wallflower. I can make my own choices. And what I choose, right now, is to be here with you.  
Like this."  
Blaine tipped his head toward Kurt, resting their foreheads together. "Yeah?" he asked.  
"Yeah," Kurt exhaled.  
"Yeah," Blaine repeated, trading the word back and forth as their breath mingled. "Okay." He closed the  
small gap between them, and they shared a long, slow kiss.  
"I think we should go to the bedroom," Kurt said against Blaine’s lips, and he felt him nod. He stood, took  
both of Blaine’s hands in his own, and guided him in the right direction.  
Closing the door behind them was like entering another world. It was a place where they were free to be  
truly themselves; a place where they could be together in the way they both wanted. But it was also a  
place with rules weighing heavily, like some sort of ominous cloud. "This is it," Blaine said, and Kurt knew  
instantly he spoke the truth. "It can never happen again. Not with him taking part of you, too."  
"I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t tear you apart that way." Kurt delicately cupped his hand along the  
curve of Blaine’s face.  
Blaine leaned into his touch. "I trust you completely, and that’s terrifying, you know?" He closed his own  
hand over Kurt’s, holding him there against his cheek for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, he turned,  
briefly pressing his lips to Kurt’s palm before stepping toward the bed.  
When he reached it, he stopped abruptly and stood staring, like he didn’t know what to do. Kurt, coming   
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around behind Blaine, perched on the edge of the bed and took his hands again. "Are you okay?"  
Blaine swallowed. "I just want you to know- it’s always been you," he said, his voice dangerous with its  
vulnerability.  
Somehow, Kurt knew what Blaine meant, what he was really saying. In his entire life, even with all the  
numerous men he had slept with, only one of them mattered. Kurt wanted Blaine to know he understood,  
and he tried his best to show him. In another time, this would have been when he said, "I love you," but he  
didn’t say it now. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he squeezed Blaine’s hands before running his fingers  
up his arms and wrapping them around his neck, drawing Blaine in to kiss him softly.  
Being together, in this way, was like coming home. They never missed a beat, despite their years apart.  
Kurt lay back on the bed and pulled Blaine down on top of him. Clothes were peeled away and hands and  
lips were left to explore bodies, five years older. Kurt noted little changes here and there- Blaine’s muscles  
were a bit less defined with age, his frame still slightly too skinny from his battle with the drugs. He wasn’t  
as quick to get down to business, instead slowing to capture the image of Kurt with his eyes, to paint his  
body with trailing touches. There was also a sense of familiarity- the way his breaths caught and shook  
against Kurt’s ear, the way he carefully and almost reverently opened him up, the way he always, without  
fail, blushed as he put on the condom, murmuring, "Just in case. I would never want to harm you."  
Lingering over them was that menacing cloud. But there was no rush, no desperation to their movements.  
Kurt matched his pace to Blaine’s, took his time, because they both knew this could be their only chance.  
He made sure to be present, to really feel everything, to stay right with Blaine from start to finish, to  
experience this together. Kurt believed they quite literally were making love, that there was something  
deeper beyond just the physicality of it all. He would never admit it out loud, but that was something he  
had only ever felt with Blaine.  
When Blaine came, he was slowly thrusting into Kurt, looking into his eyes, repeating Kurt’s name softly  
under his breath like a mantra. He gave a cry, tensed, and spilled into him, choking out a broken moan that  
sounded just as Kurt recalled. He collapsed limply against Kurt’s sweat-coated chest and reached down  
between them to stroke him. "Come on," he panted into Kurt’s neck, "I need you to come with me." And  
Kurt knew- Blaine felt it too. This fragile thing, secret and beautiful and terrible- it belonged to them both.  
That was all it took. Kurt dug his fingernails into Blaine’s back and shuddered silently, unspoken words  
dying in his throat. Blaine stroked him through it, placing fluttering kisses all over his shoulders and chest   
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until he stopped shaking. They stayed like that, breathing heavily, exposed in every sense of the word, for  
a while. Eventually, Kurt pressed one last lingering kiss into Blaine’s matted curls and Blaine pulled out,  
threw away the condom, and went to find a washcloth. He returned, delicately cleaning them both up  
before pulling the covers over them.  
They lay wrapped together, arms and legs entwined, for a long time, staring at each other. The magnitude  
of what they had done, the reality of what they were facing, had only now come fully into vision. It was  
one thing to say: this is it, another completely to feel it in your bones, to know inherently that nothing  
more could happen unless the clouds cleared. This night, this moment, was theirs, and it had to be  
protected, cradled against their chests like a canary with a broken wing.  
When Kurt tipped his head an inch or two forward and sadly nuzzled Blaine’s nose with his own, Blaine’s  
lips quivered and his eyes filled with tears. Kurt could think of no comforting words to say. His mind was a  
cavern of fear and uncertainty. The only thing he could do was hold him even closer, tucking Blaine’s head  
against his chest. He didn’t let Blaine see as he blinked back his own tears; didn’t let him know that  
despite his promise, he worried he had already torn Blaine apart.  
***  
When Kurt woke, the sunshine streaming in through the curtains brightly, he was alone. The sound of soft  
guitar plucking and singing floated into his ears from the living room. He got out of bed, encircling himself  
in the comforter. It dragged across the floor behind him as he padded quietly to the doorway between the  
two rooms.  
Blaine was sitting, his back to Kurt, on the ottoman in his boxers and Kurt’s shirt. He was strumming the  
acoustic guitar from the wall in the light from the window. It was a tune Kurt vaguely knew, but couldn’t  
quite place. But when Blaine’s voice picked up the melody, somewhat timid and broken from years out of  
practice, Kurt recognized it at once. Is this the place we used to love, is this the place that I’ve been dreaming  
of, oh simple thing, where have you gone, I’m getting old and I need something to rely on, so tell me when  
you’re gonna let me in, I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin...  
Kurt walked into Blaine’s line of vision and sang the first line of the chorus. And if you have a minute why  
don’t we go...  
Blaine faltered for a minute, but came back in with Talk about it somewhere only we know...  
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This could be the end of everything... Kurt sang.  
Blaine didn’t take up the next line, and let the notes of the guitar fade into nothingness. "Sorry. I didn’t  
mean to wake you," he said.  
"When did you learn to play guitar?" Kurt asked.  
"One of the guys at the club played backstage sometimes. I picked it up from him."  
"There’s so much I don’t know about you now," Kurt mused with wonder.  
"There’s always more to learn about you," Blaine replied. "That’s one of the reasons I like you so much."  
***  
They showered together, tracing soapy bubble tracks across each other’s skin, standing close, just to feel  
the heat radiate between them. "You know I’m going to have to tell him," Kurt said as he massaged the  
shampoo into Blaine’s hair.  
"I know," Blaine answered, serious and solemn.  
"Rinse," Kurt said, and Blaine tipped his head back into the water, closing his eyes. Kurt watched the  
shampoo run down his neck and chest in rivulets. "I think I know now why you had sex with Grant when  
we took our break."  
"Enlighten me," Blaine said, nudging Kurt to turn around so he could have a go with the shampoo.  
"You had to make sure. That you weren’t still in love with me," Kurt said as Blaine started to work the  
lather into his scalp. "Which obviously wasn’t true, because here we are."  
"That’s not why I slept with him."  
"Oh?"  
"No," Blaine said. "I slept with Grant because it was Valentine’s Day, I was lonely, and a little drunk, and I   
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knew I was still in love with a boy who would no longer have me. I thought about you the whole time."  
Kurt tipped his head back, resting it on Blaine’s slippery shoulder and looking up at him with fluttering  
eyes. Blaine kissed him sloppily on the side of his mouth before tilting them both underneath the shower  
to rinse Kurt’s hair. "So is that why last night happened? You had to make sure you aren’t still in love with  
Emilio?" he said when they tipped forward again, droplets of water clinging to their faces.  
Kurt didn’t dare let him get his hopes up. "Yes, that’s why it happened," he said carefully. "But I’m not sure  
I got any answers."  
April 2011  
Blaine stood at the top of the stairs in McKinley High’s courtyard. There were students everywhere, but  
Blaine only had eyes for one. He spotted his boyfriend immediately, standing out in his white coat and top  
hat like a star in a blackened sky. The joy on his face was apparent as his friends surrounded him, and  
Blaine knew he would have to let him go. But he also knew he would be safe- these people would take care  
of him. A satisfying calm swept over him, and Blaine began to sing over the noise: I walked across an empty  
land, I knew the pathway like the back of my hand...  
September 2012  
On the first day of his senior year, even though he knew he had Artie and Tina to keep him company,  
Blaine felt completely alone until he received a text just as he stepped through the main entrance of the  
school. All it said was felt the earth beneath my feet, sat by the river and it made me complete, but it settled  
the nerves in his stomach at once. Ten minutes later, he was chatting animatedly with his friends about  
their summers, comparing class schedules, and wondering which vest Mr. Schuester would be wearing  
during glee club later. Blaine knew, then, that everything was going to be okay.  
March 2016  
After the break up, Blaine would sing "Somewhere Only We Know" to comfort himself, but they no longer  
had a place of their own.  
November 2021

He couldn’t bring himself to sing the last line.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Twenty  
2021  
Santana knew immediately. Kurt would forever be weirded out by her sixth sense; the ability to tell  
precisely when two people started having sex with each other. That afternoon, as soon as the group  
returned from their overnight hiking excursion, Santana walked into Kurt’s cabin, where he, Rachel, and  
Blaine were preparing dinner. She looked at Kurt, glanced at Blaine, and before she uttered one word of  
greeting, she turned to Pixie coming into the cabin behind her and said loudly, "Did you notice that all the  
bedrooms here are stocked with condoms and lube? They must really care about their guests’ sexual  
satisfaction." Kurt nearly dropped the knife he was using to cut the vegetables, blushing up to his ears. As  
Santana passed by the counter, she muttered to Blaine, "I won’t say I told you so, but..." and trailed off.  
"Please don’t tell me you planted them there yourself," Blaine said. Santana merely smirked and  
disappeared into the living room. "Oh no, you did, didn’t you?" Blaine called after her.  
"What is she talking about?" Rachel asked innocently, looking up from the bubbling pot she was stirring.  
"Nothing," Kurt said quickly.  
"Kurt and I slept together," Blaine said, not taking his eyes away from the counter where he was shredding  
lettuce.  
"Blaine!"  
"What? Everyone’s going to know in a matter of hours, with Santana around."  
"Oh. My. God," Rachel said, pausing for dramatic emphasis after each word. "Really? You’re not kidding,  
right? You’re serious?" Kurt answered by waving the knife around in the air in mock-celebration. Rachel  
squealed. "I am so happy for both of you!" she exclaimed, rushing to hug each of them. "I have to admit I  
was rooting for you all along, but I didn’t want to declare my bias while things were still up in the air."  
"So that explains the cryptic advice," Kurt said dryly.  
"Oh. But- oh!" Rachel said, coming to a stand-still in the middle of the kitchen. She suddenly looked deadly   
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serious. "But what are you going to do about Emilio?" she asked.  
As if on cue, Kurt’s fiancé walked in, followed by the rest of the hiking party. "Therein lies the issue," Kurt  
said, drying his hands on a dish towel. He shot a pained glance over his shoulder at Blaine and went to kiss  
Emilio hello.  
***  
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Kurt asked Emilio that evening, when everyone else had cleared out of  
their cabin after dinner and board games. They were turning down the covers of their bed, in their  
pajamas already, but Kurt couldn’t let it wait until tomorrow.  
"Of course," Emilio said. He started to remove some of the extra pillows from the bed, but Kurt stopped  
him.  
"Can you just come sit over here? It’s important."  
Emilio nodded, and crossed around the bed. He looked up at Kurt, concern washing over his features.  
"This is serious," he said. "I knew you were acting strange all night."  
Kurt felt his nerves increase, but he pushed through them, determined to go on no matter how scared he  
was of Emilio’s reaction. "I have to be honest with you," he started, standing directly in front of his fiancé.  
"I really messed up." Emilio stiffened slightly as he registered what Kurt was saying, but before he could  
speak Kurt continued. "I’ve been in a similar situation before, in your place before, and I know that makes  
me an even more terrible person because I still went through with it, even after experiencing that. The one  
thing I can do is be honest about what I’ve done."  
"Kurt, what are you talking about?" Emilio asked. Something about the way he said it made Kurt think that  
Emilio already knew what was going on. He reached for Emilio’s hands, bracing himself for the impact of  
what he was about to say. The movement made the hem of his tank top rise an inch, and Emilio jolted  
forward, catching Kurt’s waist, stilling him there. Without glancing even once into Kurt’s eyes, he slowly  
lifted one side of Kurt’s top with his thumb, revealing a dark hickey.  
Emilio’s grip tightened minutely. He stared, intensely focused on Kurt’s hip, for several unbearably tense  
minutes. Kurt’s mouth went dry. He watched Emilio, and saw his own chest rising and falling raggedly as   
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his fear increased to a pounding frenzy. Just as he was about to explain, Emilio spoke, his voice calculated  
and forced calm. "I didn’t put that mark there." He still didn’t look up.  
Kurt swallowed painfully. "No," he rasped, unable to say anything more.  
"You had sex with Blaine, didn’t you?" To hear it laid out like that, no pretense, just bluntly stated- Kurt’s  
stomach lurched. He felt like he was about to be sick. The strain in Emilio’s voice, his inability to meet  
Kurt’s eyes, the tightening of the muscles in his neck, all made the moment even worse.  
"Yes," Kurt confirmed, and Emilio drew his hands away from his waist in repulsion, clenching them into  
fists on top of his knees. His face curled into an ugly sneer, and Kurt knew he was fighting the urge to cry.  
Kurt’s heart dropped like a rock. I cheated on my fiancé; I hurt this wonderful man who has been nothing  
but kind to me.  
"I trusted you," Emilio said thickly. "I trusted you that nothing would happen, I believed that you would  
never do this to me."  
Kurt didn’t know what to say- I’m sorry didn’t even begin to cover it. I’m sorry wasn’t a good enough  
apology. "Emilio..." He didn’t dare reach for him again, didn’t try to touch him, but Emilio jumped up from  
the bed as if he had been stung anyway, just at the sound of Kurt saying his name.  
"No." He paced to the wall, facing the dated wallpaper. "I should have put a stop to it a long time ago. As  
soon as I noticed something was fishy. No, no- I never should have allowed him to come back into your life  
in the first place."  
"Please don’t be angry with Blaine. He would never have gone through with it if it wasn’t for me."  
"I’m angrier with you." Kurt flinched at the severity of Emilio’s tone. "And you’re actually defending him.  
I’m sure he knew exactly what he was doing." Kurt fell silent; he couldn’t deny that. Emilio finally turned  
around to face him, his face stony, with hard-set eyes. "Are you still in love with him?"  
Kurt opened his mouth to respond, to reply, no, it’s you I love. But no sound came out. Emilio nodded, his  
eyes glistening, betraying his cold exterior. "You see," he said softly, "the way you’re hesitating tells me a  
lot more than any answer you could give me."  
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From beyond the bedroom, Rosie’s cry broke through the strained air. Kurt blinked and looked toward the  
door. "I have to get her," he said apologetically. "It’s my turn with her tonight, Rachel had her all of last  
night..." he trailed off and inched toward the door, realizing that Emilio would know exactly why he hadn’t  
been around to care for his daughter the previous evening.  
When his fingers closed around the handle, he tore his gaze away from Emilio, opening the door into the  
hallway. "I don’t want you to come back in here," Emilio said sharply. "You can sleep in the living room."  
"Is that it, then?" Rosie’s cries sounded louder with the door open.  
"I need some time to think. Just leave me alone. I hope I can trust you to do that, at least. But then again,  
maybe I can’t."  
***  
The drive home the next morning was torture; Burt, Carole, Finn, and Amy chatting pleasantly, either  
completely unaware of the tension between Kurt and Emilio, or choosing to disregard it. After dropping  
the Hudsons and Hummels at the hotel they’d be staying at through the wedding- which was most likely  
now rendered null and void- the silence engulfed the two of them until they reached Emilio’s apartment.  
Kurt parked the rental van against the sidewalk and Emilio unbuckled his seat belt. Kurt thought he was  
going to leave without saying anything, but then he turned toward him and said, eyes fixed on the  
dashboard, "I want to try to make this relationship work. But I have one condition. Blaine cannot be  
around you anymore." He glanced up, checking Kurt’s eyes to make sure he had received the message,  
loud and clear. "I’ll give you some time to think about it," Emilio added before letting himself out of the  
vehicle and into his building, without waiting for Kurt to respond.  
***  
At sunset that evening, Rachel came back to the apartment after she had taken Rosie grocery shopping,  
leaving Kurt alone to smother himself in conflicting guilt and self-pity. She gently knocked on the door to  
Kurt’s bedroom, where he was lying, hoping he would get some answers by staring at the ceiling. "I don’t  
want any dinner," he said in a monotone.  
"No, Kurt- I have to warn you, or I’ll feel awful." Kurt glanced sideways at her. "Santana and Pixie are going  
to be here any minute to kidnap you," she said.  
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"Kidnap me?" he replied mockingly.  
Rachel nodded seriously. "For your bachelor party. The wedding’s on Friday, and so we all agreed this was  
the best night to ambush you. It was all planned before everything went to hell at the lake, and it wasn’t  
even going to be particularly over-the-top, but Santana was convinced it wasn’t raunchy enough and she  
hijacked my plans."  
"Call and tell them I’m not going," Kurt said. He couldn’t care less.  
"I already tried to tell them on the way home today that we shouldn’t go through with it, considering what  
happened, but Pixie said we had already spent the money on it and she didn’t want it to go to waste. And  
you know Santana would never turn down a chance to party."  
Kurt fished for excuses. "What about Rosie?"  
"Burt and Carole have her tonight, remember?"  
The doorbell rang. Kurt groaned. "I’m not going," he repeated.  
July 2017  
Rachel was right. Sunny days. A year later, they were celebrating Kurt’s successful promotion to assistant  
to Mary DuPre and the end of Rachel’s run with her first Broadway show at their favorite nearby bar. Kurt  
ordered a martini for Rachel and a mojito for himself, carrying them above the crowd as he made his way  
to the small table in the back Rachel had managed to claim.  
"To us, and our future endeavors," Kurt toasted, clinking his glass against hers.  
"You said it, buster," Rachel replied, taking a huge gulp of her martini. "How many numbers did you get so  
far?" she asked.  
"Two."  
"Ooh, and it’s still early!" Kurt had a sudden flash of the high school version of Rachel- that old brighteyed, big-dreamed enthusiasm bubbling over, now showing usually only when she was inebriated or fresh   
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off the stage.  
"Nobody too promising." He restrained his own excitement. There had been dating, here and there, never  
anything serious, in the last year. Kurt just dabbled a bit before moving on; he knew how rare it was for  
him to find someone perfectly in tune with him- there had only ever been one person with that quality,  
and he didn’t waste time on others who couldn’t compare. Kurt was looking for that particular spark  
again, and wasn’t about to settle for less.  
"Oh, there’s Jackie and Evan! Over here!" Rachel’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She waved her  
friends- a very pretty redhead with a brilliant smile and a lanky African-American guy- over to the table.  
"Kurt, this is Jackie, she was one of the understudies in the show, and Evan, he’s a dancer, and he’s single!  
Evan, Kurt is one of my oldest friends, and he has a great appreciation for the arts. Fantastic singing  
voice."  
"Subtle, Rachel," Kurt sarcastically replied. "It’s nice to meet you," he added to Jackie and Evan.  
By the end of the night he was feeling considerably more relaxed, after performing a karaoke duet with  
Rachel to rousing applause, debating Barbra’s greatness versus Judy’s with Jackie, and scoring two more  
numbers, including Evan’s. "I’m happy," he said to Rachel as they unsteadily walked the six blocks back to  
their apartment, slinging his arm around her shoulders.  
"Me too," she said, leaning heavily into him for a moment.  
"I mean, I have a fantastic job I love, I’m paying off my loans- okay, slowly, Marc Jacobs is a priority- I have  
four prospective dates, and I live in the greatest city in the world!"  
"Shh, shh," Rachel replied, flapping her hand in his direction. People were turning to look at them. "Too  
loud."  
"I don’t care. I’m drunk! Woo!" he shouted, and Rachel broke into laughter.  
2021  
An hour later, Kurt was miserably milking his second drink of the evening, a pink feathery boa wrapped  
around his shoulders, as he watched a decidedly sleazy and somewhat uncoordinated stripper finish his   
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performance to "It’s Raining Men" on the stage. Amid the mediocre, scattered applause, the MC announced  
that they would next be taking volunteers from the audience for lap dances as the strippers set up a row of  
chairs on stage.  
"Lap dances!" Santana said with evil glee beside Kurt. "Here! Here!" she screamed, waving her arms to get  
the MC’s attention. "It’s his last week as a free man!"  
Kurt got up before she could attract too much attention, clutching his glass. "What if I could get Blaine to  
do one?" Santana called to his back as he walked away. Kurt flipped her off without turning around.  
Unfortunately, he didn’t get very far before Rachel found him at an empty table at the back of the club,  
where the music wasn’t as loud. He waved her off as she approached. "Go," he said. "Go have fun."  
"I think Santana is enjoying this enough for all of us," Rachel replied. They sat in companionable quiet for a  
bit, watching the audience participants line up on the stage. "Have you made a decision yet?" Rachel asked  
after a while.  
Kurt shook his head. "I know what you’ll say. You made your opinion pretty clear when you practically  
tackled Blaine and I."  
"Kurt, I am your best friend and the mother of your child. I just want you to be happy." She leaned over  
and squeezed his shoulder, a gentle smile playing on her face. "Let me ask you something, okay? Why did  
you want to marry Emilio?"  
At first, Kurt couldn’t come up with a reason that didn’t sound contrived. Finally, he shrugged and said, "I  
guess I just don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. Isn’t that why people get married?"  
"No, why did you want to marry Emilio," she said, emphasizing his fiance’s name.  
"He’s a good guy, Rachel. He loves me." Kurt took a sip of his drink.  
"No," she said again. "What about you, Kurt? I think you spend too much time trying to please others.  
Maybe you should try focusing on what you want for once." He blinked at her, pondering her words. "Now,  
you’ll have to excuse me," she continued. "I think someone wants to talk to you."  
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"What do you mean?"  
Rachel pointed behind him. Blaine was walking across the club toward Kurt’s table. As Rachel slipped  
away, Blaine took her seat, setting a sparkly plastic crown in the middle of the table, uncharacteristically  
shy. "Um, Pixie wanted me to tell you that you forgot your tiara," he said.  
Kurt watched the neon lights flash over Blaine’s features. "Why are you here?" he asked.  
"For you," Blaine said, like it was obvious. "Santana invited me when they set all this up. I didn’t want to  
come tonight, but she said I couldn’t avoid you for the rest of my life. She’s right."  
"Emilio said I can’t see you anymore if I want to stay with him," Kurt told him, point-blank.  
"Is he here?"  
"No."  
"Do you want to stay with him?" Kurt could hear the vulnerability in that question, the way Blaine’s eyes  
wavered, though his voice was steady.  
"Rachel asked me why I wanted to marry Emilio," Kurt said. "I just... couldn’t come up with a good reason.  
But at the same time, I don’t want to hurt him any more than I already have. What do you think I should  
do, Blaine?"  
Blaine looked at him with troubled eyes. Kurt willed him to give him a reason, to say I think you should  
leave Emilio for me, anything that would excuse him. But Blaine tore his eyes away from Kurt’s and said, "I  
can’t answer that objectively, Kurt," staring across the club.  
"I think I’m in love with you again," Kurt said desperately.  
Blaine slowly turned back to Kurt. "I think I’ve always been in love with you," he replied sadly. Then he  
stood up and walked out the door.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Twenty-One  
2021  
Kurt didn’t go home after his bachelor party. It was three in the morning when he knocked on Emilio’s  
door, expecting to have to pound at the ugly gray metal for a while to wake him up. But the door was  
opened momentarily and Emilio appeared in sweat pants, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. He raised his  
eyebrows at Kurt, raking his gaze from his hair to his feet, and Kurt realized he was still wearing the boa  
and tiara from the club. "Having a fun night?" Emilio asked humorlessly.  
Kurt pulled the tiara off his head and unwound the boa from around his neck. "I have to talk to you," he  
said. "Can I come in, please?"  
Emilio stepped aside to let Kurt pass, shutting the door behind them. He looked at him expectantly, hands  
folded across his stomach. "Yes?"  
"I can’t do it," Kurt said. "I can’t cut Blaine out of my life. He needs me, and he doesn’t have anyone else."  
Emilio didn’t even look mildly surprised, as if he had been expecting this. Maybe he had. "I need you too,  
Kurt," he replied. "I need you to be faithful. But I can’t trust you to be, not when he’s around."  
Kurt blinked back a few tears. "Then I don’t see how we can fix this. Because I’m not letting him go."  
"Maybe we aren’t meant to fix it, Kurt," Emilio said bitterly. "Maybe you’re meant to be with him, and I’m  
meant to be alone."  
"I’m sorry," Kurt replied, knowing the words could never match what Emilio deserved. "I settled for you,"  
he explained. "I didn’t realize it at the time- I didn’t even fully understand until tonight- but I agreed to  
marry you because I wanted to be married by thirty, I didn’t have any other options, and you were a  
loving boyfriend who would take care of me, who I loved and believed I would be happy with. I didn’t  
realize- it’s not enough." He knew his eyes were glassy, but he refused to let the tears fall.  
Emilio took a shuddery breath, and then Kurt knew he was trying not to cry as well. "If your heart’s not in  
it, I can’t force you to stay," Emilio ground out.  
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"I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve to be treated this way."  
Emilio sighed, and he looked more tired than Kurt had ever seen him. "No- I know," he said. "I think I’ve  
known for a while now. I just thought if I ignored it, it would go away. I was so caught up in wanting to be  
married- it was the right time, I had you- and I stopped paying attention to you, to how you were feeling."  
"I don’t want to settle anymore," Kurt said, shaking his head back and forth.  
"Neither do I," Emilio agreed.  
"So it’s over, then?"  
"I think it should be."  
"Me too."  
They shared a teary-eyed hug. As they stepped away from one another again, Emilio said, "I think we just  
saved ourselves from a divorce years down the line."  
Kurt, amazed he was able to joke, forced out a shaky laugh. "Please take care of yourself," he said  
sincerely, gripping Emilio’s shoulders. "You will find someone new, someone who deserves your love far  
more than I did."  
November 2017  
"Blaine, I’m sure you’re aware that we take any and all substance abuse accusations quite seriously here."  
Blaine’s beefy, mustached boss towered over him, standing behind his desk in his office while Blaine sat  
sweating, mind racing in the cushy chair on the other side. Just don’t ask me to empty out my bag.  
"Absolutely, Sir."  
"I like to give my employees the benefit of the doubt, and in the past three months of this school year  
you’ve been an exemplary teacher. I have no reason to suspect you. Unfortunately, one of our students has  
made an accusation against you. Drug use."  
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Blaine’s mind was racing, trying desperately to come up with a way to hide the cocaine he knew was  
sitting at the bottom of his satchel, underneath his binders of lesson plans and papers to grade.  
Meanwhile, his boss droned on, seemingly unaware of Blaine’s internal struggle. "Due to the school’s  
policy, we do need to thoroughly investigate any claims. This is simply a routine procedure, and I’m sure  
we’ll all be able to go home with no trouble in just a bit. Officers?"  
Blaine turned to the two police officers flanking Principal Hendricks and swallowed. "We would  
appreciate your cooperation in this, Mr. Anderson," the one on the left said. "We just need to search your  
person, your bag, all personal items in your classroom, and your car. It shouldn’t take more than an hour.  
Do you understand and comply with our request?"  
His mouth was cotton-dry. Blaine barely managed to squeak out a response. "Yes," he said, not daring to  
say "no," because then for sure they would know he had something to hide. Either way, there was no way  
they wouldn’t notice the small plastic bag tucked into the corner of his satchel- there was no escape. He  
was trapped. Nothing could be done now. Three months into his new shiny high school English teacher job  
and he was about to be fired.  
"If you could stand, please, Mr. Anderson. Officer Jones will search your person while I check your bag."  
Blaine stood. "Arms and legs spread, please," Officer Jones said, sounding very far away. Blaine numbly did  
as he was told, watching as his bag was swept up from the ground and placed on Principal Hendricks desk.  
He barely registered the hands patting him down and reaching into his pockets. His eyes were trained on  
his bag, unclasped and revealing books and papers as they slowly filled the desk.  
"Wait," he said, and the officer’s hand stilled above Blaine’s now nearly empty satchel.  
"Wait, Mr. Anderson?"  
"I have drugs on me. In my bag. It’s true, whatever the kid said is true."  
The officer’s hand resumed rifling through Blaine’s bag as he spoke, and now he finally pulled out the tiny  
baggie, closed with a twist tie and containing a fine white powder. Blaine hung his head and waited for the  
punishment he knew he deserved.  
2021  
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When Blaine next showed up at Kurt’s door, washed out by the florescent light of the hallway, he looked  
directly into his eyes, no hesitating. His own eyes were ringed with red. "Go ahead and say it."  
"Say what?" Kurt answered, bewildered.  
"Say that I have to stop coming to see you, that I can’t be around you anymore."  
Kurt stared at Blaine. He looked so set, so convinced. "I’m not going to say that," Kurt replied seriously.  
"Go ahead. I can take it," Blaine insisted, though he physically braced himself against the door frame as if  
preparing to be punched.  
"Blaine, I broke things off with Emilio." Kurt laid a hand on his arm, and watched the shock wash over  
Blaine’s expression.  
"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, you didn’t. You couldn’t."  
"I did," Kurt said calmly. He already felt more at peace.  
"Really?" Blaine searched his eyes.  
"Really." And Blaine staggered forward, finding Kurt’s lips and kissing him like his life depended on it.  
"I didn’t think- I don’t have anything to offer you," Blaine gasped incredulously when they broke apart,  
breathing heavily.  
"I’m not asking for anything you haven’t already given me," Kurt said, his heart cracking just a little at  
Blaine’s words. He tightened his arms around the back of Blaine’s neck, drawing him closer, keeping him  
there. "But Blaine, I think we should take this slow. I need some time to heal, to work out my feelings. The  
last thing I want to do is rush this and kill it before it even has a chance."  
Blaine nodded at him the whole time. "Absolutely. Whatever you need."  
Kurt tilted his head to one side, considering Blaine. "It’s about what you need, too," he told him. He wasn’t  
sure whether or not Blaine knew this, and wanted to make sure.  
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"Yeah," Blaine replied, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, it is." They exchanged fragile, but pleased, smiles. Kurt  
let his eyes flutter closed, let his cheek rest against Blaine’s, and they held each other over the threshold.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty-Two  
2021  
Blaine took Kurt out for a "second first date" a week later, on what would have been Kurt and Emilio’s  
wedding day. Kurt spent most of the cab ride to the restaurant internally fretting over the amount of  
people who had planned their weekends around the wedding, the wasted money, and the ex-fiancé he  
could picture spending the day moping about love lost. He tried not to let it show on his face, for Blaine’s  
sake, and because he would rather be sitting across a candlelit table with this man than standing across an  
altar with another. He knew Blaine’s intentions were sweet- it was obvious he had chosen this day in an  
attempt to keep Kurt’s mind away from what he could have been doing otherwise- and he didn’t want to  
ruin their first official date.  
Unfortunately, the universe had other plans. Not only was it pouring, but the cab splashed mud all over  
Kurt’s one-of-a-kind, custom-designed white jeans as it pulled away from the curb in front of the  
restaurant. Blaine valiantly swept in and tried to mop up the worst of it with his coat sleeve, but only  
succeeded in spreading the mud and dropping his umbrella in the process, soaking them both in rain.  
Once they were inside the restaurant, they were turned away at the host’s podium because they no longer  
met the dress code and walked four blocks to a cheesy mom-and-pop diner.  
The bell over the door tinkled as they stepped inside, but no one came to greet them. They stood dripping  
onto the checkered tiles for a few minutes before Blaine said, "I guess we’re supposed to seat ourselves,"  
and they meandered through the crowded tables until they managed to spot a clear one shoved in the  
corner. The blaring jukebox and the four screaming kids in the booth behind them made conversation  
nearly impossible, and after waiting and growing increasingly impatient, Kurt snagged the arm of a  
passing waitress, an old tottering woman, and said, "Excuse me, I know you’re busy, but we’ve been siting  
here for almost twenty minutes and no one’s taken our order."  
"Oh! Goodness me," she said, immediately pulling a pencil out of the bun in her hair and whipping a pad of  
paper out of her apron. "Sorry about that. Let me start you out with something to drink? And I’ll get you  
some menus while I’m at it."  
"Great. Thanks," Blaine said, plastering on his usual charming demeanor, and they ordered their drinks.  
The waitress returned with two tall glasses and matching menus before skittering away to deal with the   
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kids, who were now flinging ketchup-smothered fries at each other despite their mother’s protests.  
"Didn’t you ask for Sprite?" Kurt asked Blaine, eying the bubbling orange beverage in his glass.  
"It’s okay," Blaine said, tearing open the wrapper on his straw.  
"But you hate orange soda. I’m sorry," Kurt said as the waitress passed beside their table again, "but he  
wanted a Sprite. Do you think you could exchange this?"  
"Oh, I’m so sorry, dear! No trouble, I’ll get that for you right away!" And she was off, the orange soda in  
hand.  
They studied their menus. Kurt scratched his fingers across the top of Blaine’s hand where it rested on the  
table to distract himself from the lingering thoughts of Emilio and the children screeching in his ear. "Not  
much selection," he said.  
Blaine looked up and offered an apologetic smile. "No."  
When the waitress returned, she plunked a new glass of soda down in front of Blaine. "He ordered a  
Sprite," Kurt said testily, and Blaine squeezed his hand, too much of a gentleman to complain. "This is  
ginger ale."  
"Oh gosh, I always get those two confused. Just a sec, how about I take your orders and then I’ll get you  
that Sprite, Sir!"  
They waited another twenty minutes before she came back and set down the entre Kurt had ordered  
before rushing to another table, Blaine’s drink and meal nowhere in sight. "You should eat," Blaine told  
him. "Don’t wait for me."  
Kurt picked at the mediocre salad, pushing aside iceberg lettuce and rock-hard croutons, and was almost  
finished by the time the waitress delivered a burnt burger and a Coke to their table. They both just stared  
down at the Coke for a minute before Blaine turned to the waitress, who was waiting for approval, flashed  
a Dalton smile, and said brightly, "Thanks."  
When they started getting assaulted with fries from the booth behind them, Kurt decided it was time to   
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pay the bill. He and Blaine stood, and Blaine helped Kurt into his coat. The mother of the kids stood, too,  
and approached them. Kurt thought she had come to apologize for their behavior, and said, "It’s okay,  
they’re children-" but she just shoved a napkin into his hand and returned to her booth.  
Kurt and Blaine looked down at the napkin, perplexed. Scrawled on it was the address and phone number  
of a church with the message, "God can cure you of your sin." Blaine plucked the napkin out of Kurt’s  
hands, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it on the table. "Can we go?" Kurt asked flatly, brushing a fry off  
Blaine’s shoulder.  
"I thought you’d never ask," Blaine replied, unashamedly taking Kurt’s arm as they passed the woman and  
her children on their way out.  
***  
They took a long walk back to Blaine’s apartment, huddled together under the umbrella as the cold rain  
cascaded down around them, splashing as people dashed through puddles, reflecting the neon lights in the  
street. "So, there’s another reason I asked you out tonight," Blaine said quietly. "Not that I needed another  
reason, but..."  
"What is it?" Kurt asked, watching his breath puff out into the darkness.  
"I quit my job."  
Kurt pulled away a little to get a better look at Blaine. "What?" That was not a step in the right direction.  
"No, no, not like that," Blaine rectified, seeing the worry in Kurt’s eyes. "I quit- because I got offered  
another job. At a school."  
"Teaching? Seriously?"  
Blaine nodded. "It’s a private, alternative high school. They have a lot of struggling kids dealing with  
hardships, and the principal said he was inspired by my addiction and recovery- well, I’m still recovering,  
you know- but he thinks I could be a good role model for the students there. And he said my sample lesson  
was really creative and in a style that will resonate with the kids there. It’s only assisting right now, but  
there’s the potential to get my own classroom if I prove myself-"  
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Kurt stopped walking, causing Blaine to abruptly cut himself off. "Blaine, that’s incredible!" Kurt said,  
turning to face him. "It sounds absolutely perfect for you. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me at dinner! Why  
didn’t you tell me?" But he kissed Blaine before he could respond.  
"I wanted to tell you earlier," Blaine said when they parted, laying a hand along Kurt’s jaw. "But then we  
ended up at that diner, and it didn’t feel right to say it when you were having such a horrible time."  
"I didn’t have a horrible time. I was with you," Kurt replied.  
Blaine’s eyes lit up and a pink blush spread over the apples of his cheeks. He leaned in to peck Kurt quickly  
on the lips. "Now I’ll be able to repay you and Santana and Rachel. And start contributing more to the rent  
and other stuff for Santana. And don’t tell me not to," Blaine added, noticing that Kurt opened his mouth to  
protest. "I want to do it. I want to make things right."  
"I have some good news, too," Kurt said, instead of resisting Blaine’s offer. Blaine raised his eyebrows,  
curious. "They want me to present my own line at my boss’ holiday fashion show this year."  
Blaine threw his arms around Kurt at once, bouncing on his feet like a little boy as he hugged him. "Your  
first line! I’m so happy for you, Kurt!"  
"That means I have about two weeks to put everything together," Kurt said, but couldn’t resist smiling at  
Blaine’s excitement. "Thank goodness I already have some of it ready to go."  
"Oh, it’s you, come on," Blaine grinned. "You’ll make sure it’s fabulous or it won’t go down the runway."  
November 2017  
Spending a night in jail, in a holding cell, waiting for an arraignment, was something Blaine had never  
intending on adding to his list of milestones in life. Running into a familiar face there was the cherry on  
top of a very depressing sundae, especially when that cherry was on the other side of the bars.  
She breezed by at first, strutting down the dank hallway like she owned the place, and Blaine blinked his  
vision clear to rid himself of what was clearly a hallucination. But then she backtracked, did a double take,  
said "Blaine Anderson?" in disbelief, and there was no mistaking who she was: Santana Lopez, a few years  
older and more smartly dressed, but still as alluring as ever. "No. Just... no. Did you take a wrong turn on   
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your way to the kiddie carnival?"  
Blaine really wasn’t in the mood for dealing with anyone right now, let alone an old high school  
acquaintance. "What?" he said flatly.  
Santana stepped up to the bars. "It’s just that you’re the last person I’d expect to wind up here. What did  
you do- did one of your public serenades get mistaken as a riot or something? I see you’re still wearing  
those hideous bow ties, by the way."  
Blaine tipped his head against the hard concrete wall behind him. "Look, Santana, it’s great to see you  
again and everything, but I just really don’t feel like talking right now."  
One of the menacing-looking men across the cell leered. "I’ll talk to her, then," he said. "And more. Pretty  
thing."  
Santana’s eyes flicked lighting-quick over to him. "Can it, Carston. You’re in here practically every week,  
lifting your nose like a dog whenever you get a whiff of perfume in these stinking halls."  
Blaine sat up a little straighter, his interest piqued. "You’re in here every week?" he asked Santana.  
"It comes with the territory. Internship for my grad program at a nearby law firm." She flipped her hair  
over her shoulder.  
"You? Well, strangely, I can kind of see it."  
Santana smirked. "So, Blaine. My question remains unanswered."  
He sighed. Mumbling into his shoulder, he replied, "I got busted for drug possession."  
"Really! Well done, Blaine Warbler!"  
"For someone studying law, you seem awfully happy about this. And I’m never going to live that nickname  
down, am I?"  
"Not while I’m around. So what was it, weed?"  
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"No. Coke."  
Santana tilted her head in a sort of mini bow. "Very well done, then. I didn’t think you were the type."  
"Yeah, well, things are different now." He put his head in his hands, wanting very much just to curl up into  
a ball on the bench and die.  
Santana seemed to take pity on him. "Hey, if you want someone to represent you at your arraignment I  
can get one of the attorneys at my internship’s firm to defend you. They’re really good. I bet they can  
secure a lower bail, at least."  
Blaine agreed, Santana followed through on her promise, and twenty-four hours later Blaine was back in  
his now unoccupied holding cell, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to afford to get out of jail,  
even with his fairly reasonable bail. Santana swung by a few hours later, hugging a stack of files to her  
chest. "How’d it go?" she asked.  
He shrugged. "Alright. Except now I’m stuck here. Thanks, though, for the lawyer."  
"Don’t mention it." She tapped a long fingernail on the top of her files. "What do you mean, you’re stuck  
here? You can’t afford bail?"  
Blaine shook his head.  
"Don’t you have someone who can bail you out? Kurt? Rachel? How have they been, by the way- not that I  
care about the hobbit, but whatever."  
He laughed resentfully, looking down at his Oxford-clad feet. "I wouldn’t know."  
She raised an eyebrow. "Don’t tell me you and albino boy broke up."  
"Okay, I won’t. Doesn’t make it less true."  
Santana actually looked sad to hear this news, and her response was surprisingly solemn. "Seriously,  
Blaine? I’m not even going to pretend I’m down with that. High school was a tough time for me. And seeing  
you two, so proud of who you were, and so completely, disgustingly head over heels for each other- well, I   
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know I didn’t act like it, but you gave me hope. That one day I could accept myself. That one day I could  
find a love like that."  
"And? Did you? What about you and Brittany, I know you had a thing."  
She smiled sadly and shook her head. "She’s in California now."  
"And we’re both alone. We’re not in high school anymore. This is the real world."  
"You’re not the Blaine I remember."  
"No," he agreed, and they were silent for some time.  
"I think it’s time to make a call to Lima Heights Adjacent," Santana finally said. "I need to see if I can  
convince my old man to wire some money so I can help a friend out."  
Blaine looked up. "Do you have a place to stay?" Santana continued.  
He fumbled for words. "Um, well, the guys I live with- Alex, Harrison, and Dan- they’re basically strangers.  
We used to be closer, but I think they all gave up on me. I called them about the bail and no one  
answered."  
She nodded, just once. "You can stay with me for a while. Until you get back on your feet."  
"Why are you being so nice to me?" He couldn’t help but ask. This wasn’t the Santana he remembered,  
either.  
She smiled at him through the bars. "I kind of like the dynamic of a minor criminal living with a defense  
attorney in training, don’t you?"  
2021  
"Taking it slow" didn’t really go according to plan. Not after Kurt dropped Blaine off at the door to his  
apartment with a chaste kiss that quickly turned filthy. When Kurt ran his hands down Blaine’s back in  
one swift motion and grabbed his ass, Blaine lurched in surprise and pulled his tongue out of Kurt’s   
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mouth.  
"I thought you wanted-" he mumbled against Kurt’s lips, but Kurt interrupted him.  
"I want you," he said, low and breathy, and squeezed Blaine’s ass for emphasis.  
Blaine didn’t protest. He groaned at Kurt’s touch and the sound of his voice, pushing back into his hands.  
Kurt followed him, licking his way back into Blaine’s mouth and pressing up against him until their groins  
slotted together. Their tongues mingled, silky smooth, and it wasn’t long before they were practically  
rutting right there in the hallway. Gasping into each other’s mouths, they wordlessly, mutually ended the  
kiss before they lost all control.  
"I don’t want you to go. Come inside," Blaine said, pouting and tugging at Kurt’s collar, using that honeyed  
tone that always used to drive Kurt crazy.  
"How can I resist that?" Kurt replied; playful, coy. They stepped into Blaine’s apartment, and were only  
just inside the door before they fused together again, unable to keep their hands off each other. But right  
as things started to get heated, there was a loud wolf whistle, followed by stifled giggling, somewhere in  
the vicinity of the couch.  
Pixie and Santana were sitting there, cuddling in front of the television. Neither Kurt nor Blaine had even  
noticed the movie playing in the background, but at the sound of other people in the apartment they had  
jumped apart. "No, no, go right ahead," Santana said, barely batting an eye. "I don’t mind a show."  
Kurt glanced at Blaine, who was red as a tomato, and was sure his face sported a similar shade. "You’re  
just lucky I made her stop you," Pixie said, still tucked into Santana. "You think this is awkward? Imagine  
how much worse it would be if she had taken out her camera."  
Blaine pointedly took Kurt’s hand and led him across the living room, passing the girls as they headed in  
the direction of his bedroom. "Don’t worry, I’ll turn up the volume!" Santana called after them. "Feel free  
to get your freak on." She proceeded to do exactly as she promised, until the television was blaring  
obnoxiously as Blaine shut and locked his door.  
"Well," Kurt sighed. "That was fun. Not a mood-killer at all."  
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"Must be our lucky day," Blaine agreed, slouching against the door.  
Kurt used the opportunity to wander around Blaine’s room. "I didn’t really get a chance to look around  
before," he explained as he soaked up his surroundings. "When you gave me back- oh." He realized what  
he was saying too late.  
"The promise ring," Blaine finished.  
"Yeah. Sorry." Kurt finished his tour back in the center of the room. "Not the best thing to bring up."  
Blaine hauled himself off the door and joined Kurt. "Let’s just stop talking." He took Kurt’s hands and  
pecked him on the lips.  
Kurt hummed. "One minute." He crossed the room again, to the open closet where he had noticed  
something white and feathery poking out of the mess at the bottom. Pulling out the wings, now somewhat  
ruffled, he carried them back to the middle of the room, laying them on the bench at the end of Blaine’s  
bed. "I guess you won’t be needing them anymore," he said, running a hand over the soft feathers.  
"I’m going to get rid of them," Blaine said quietly, standing close and resting a hand at the small of Kurt’s  
back. They both looked down at the wings, lying there, derelict, on the bench. "They’re the last things tying  
me to that period of my life," he continued. "It’s over now. And I’m never going back."  
Kurt pillowed his head on Blaine’s shoulder. "I think we should give them a proper send off, don’t you?"  
He could feel Blaine nod against his head, his breath hitching with anticipation, and Kurt turned to kiss his  
neck. "I’ll be Indigo one last time," Blaine whispered into Kurt’s ear.  
They moved simultaneously, Kurt lifting the wings from the bench and Blaine dragging his shirt over his  
head, letting it fall to the floor. Facing each other, Kurt slipped the straps of the wings over Blaine’s arms  
and fitted them over his shoulders. With the feathers framing him, he looked ethereal, impossibly  
beautiful, in the glowing bedroom light.  
"Blaine the angel," Kurt said softly, trailing a hand down his bare chest. He scratched his nails in the dark  
hair and let his hand fall further, the muscles of Blaine’s abdomen contracting at his touch.  
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"You don’t believe in angels," Blaine breathed, as Kurt teasingly dipped his fingertips below the hemline of  
his jeans.  
"Just this one."  
Blaine’s eyes filled with so much adoration Kurt was a little overwhelmed by it, up close and unhindered  
by false pretenses or secret hopes. He kissed Kurt on the temple, airy-light, and rested his lips there for a  
moment in thanks before continuing a path down the line of Kurt’s face. When he reached the sensitive  
spot just under the corner of Kurt’s jaw, where he knew he would get a strong reaction, he murmured, "I  
should warn you- I’m a sinner in disguise." The vibrations of his voice made the hair on the back of Kurt’s  
neck stand at attention before Blaine bit sharply into his skin.  
Kurt gasped. His hands scrambled for purchase- one at Blaine’s hip, the other clinging to the wings at his  
back. Blaine chucked darkly at how easily Kurt had come undone and walked him backwards until his legs  
hit the bench at the foot of the bed. "Asshole," Kurt managed, the word sounding far more like a whine  
than he had intended.  
"Hm, that can be arranged. Mine or yours?" Blaine sounded nearly as wrecked as Kurt, despite the snappy  
comeback.  
"God, you’re such an asshole," Kurt repeated, no real hostility in his voice. He gave up on their "fight" as  
soon as the words were out, sealing his lips with Blaine’s in a searing kiss.  
They got lost in that for a while, tongues and teeth and heat. When Blaine finally pulled back for some air,  
Kurt couldn’t remember which way was up or down, let alone what they had been talking about only  
minutes ago. Blaine, though, didn’t forget, even if his eyes were clouded over in a haze of lust. "Now," he  
said, "I believe you requested a show." And without another word, he pushed Kurt down onto the bench  
and climbed on top of his lap.  
***  
They came together, in one rare and perfect instant of total unity. The moment was only marred by  
Santana yelling over the television still raging in the living room, "Are you finished yet?" But even that  
couldn’t bring their spirits down.  
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Afterwards, they set fire to the wings in the alley adjacent to Blaine’s building. They stood in silent  
reflection with their arms around each other, watching the flames flicker off the brick walls and the  
feathers shrivel and curl in on themselves. When nothing but embers remained, and the chill of the  
December night started to set in again, Kurt cleared his throat. "Well," he tentatively said, "I betthat never  
happened at the strip club."  
Blaine snorted into his shoulder. "Which part?"  
"Everything." Kurt could feel Blaine smiling, even through the thick material of his coat. For once, he was  
happy: completely free and uninhibited. And that was when Kurt knew for sure he had made the right  
decision.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-Three  
2021  
After his first day on the job, Blaine called Kurt as soon as the kids left the building, as promised. "Hey!"  
Kurt said brightly, juggling Rosie in one hand while he answered his phone with the other. He had the day  
off, and was using his time to work on his line for the holiday show and bond with his daughter. He had  
surprised Rachel with a much-needed spa day the night before. "How did it go?" he asked Blaine as he  
considered two fabrics, both in similar shades of gray.  
"Do you think I could stop by on my way home?" Blaine sounded exhausted and stressed.  
"Of course you can. Rough day?" They both knew rough day was a code word for extra bad cravingsor  
possibility of a relapse.  
"Yeah. We can talk about it when I get there."  
When his doorbell rang, Kurt laid Rosie down in her swing and crossed the living room to the door. As  
soon as Blaine was inside, he immediately dropped his satchel and fell into Kurt’s arms, wrapping himself  
around his waist and burrowing his head into his chest. "Oh, sweetheart. That bad?" Kurt said, kneading  
his fingers into Blaine’s tense neck.  
"Those kids," Blaine replied, his words muffled by the fabric of Kurt’s shirt, "some of them are so lost." He  
pulled back, grasping Kurt’s shoulders and looking at him directly. "I could see myself in them, Kurt. I  
mean the me I was six months ago. I just don’t think I realized how much of a trigger it would be."  
Kurt eyed him. "You didn’t..." Blaine looked tired, not out of it- but still.  
"No, absolutely not. That’s why I came here. Because I know you’ll take care of me. Stop me from doing  
something stupid."  
Before Kurt’s heart could swell too much, Rosie started fussing in her swing. Kurt patted Blaine’s arms  
and, with a small smile, went to retrieve his daughter. "Sorry, she’s been iffy all day," he explained. He  
lifted Rosie from the swing and bounced her gently in his arms, pacing around the room as she quieted.  
"You know, if it’s too much of a trigger, you don’t have to do this. You can find another job. If it’s going to   
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jeopardize your sobriety-"  
"No, I do," Blaine said, still standing by the door. "I have to. The job itself isn’t the problem." Kurt stopped  
pacing and watched Blaine with a quizzical expression. "There are triggers everywhere, Kurt," he  
continued. "Every day. You know, that need for it, it hasn’t gone away. It might always be a part of me. But  
I need a stable life more, I need you more, and you need me to be the best I can be. I’m not going to let it  
get in my way or stop me from going after what I want. I’m going to fight it. Always."  
Kurt looked at Blaine, quietly defiant, resisting when before he had given in so easily. He thought back to  
the Blaine he had broken up with- throwing away every opportunity and everything he loved in life,  
because he was drowning in the stress and pressure. He thought back to the Blaine he had met again, the  
Blaine who wasn’t even Blaine anymore. And he saw the Blaine before him now, mending and stronger  
than his temptations. Those ugly pieces were there, too, small and fading in the background, but powerful  
and more present was the sunshine Kurt used to know, breaking through the clouds in brilliant rays.  
"I’m so proud of you," he said honestly, and Blaine beamed at him. Rosie started fussing again, twisting in  
Kurt’s arms until she was full-on crying. "Oh, come on, Rosie," he sighed, resuming his pacing. "You ate,  
you slept, you’re dry; I don’t know what’s the matter with you today."  
Blaine crossed the living room to them. "Let me try," he said, holding out his arms. Kurt, doubtful but  
unable to deny Blaine’s eagerness, handed Rosie to him, and Blaine wrapped her in his arms, holding her  
close to his chest and shushing her. He carried her to the couch and settled down, cooing and rocking her  
until her cries subsided and she looked up at Blaine, studying his face with apparent fascination.  
"She likes you," Kurt said, sitting closely beside them and laying his head on Blaine’s shoulder, his  
exhaustion hitting him in a sudden wave. "Thank you. You’re a miracle worker."  
"Don’t get ahead of yourself; for all we know she could be at it again in a few minutes," Blaine said,  
amused.  
Kurt groaned. "Don’t give her any ideas."  
Blaine chuckled. "Do you regret it? Having her?"  
Only Blaine could get away with such a bold question, but there was no accusation in his tone, only   
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curiosity. "No," Kurt answered. "I adore her, and she’s got me wrapped around her little finger. She owns  
my heart." Privately, Kurt thought there was another person who fit those qualifications. "But sometimes I  
do wonder what life would have been like if I had said no to Rachel. I suppose I would have met Emilio  
and then there would have been no chance for it. Rachel probably wouldn’t even have asked me if I had  
been dating someone."  
"What about us?" Blaine asked quietly. In his arms, Rosie was blinking heavily, falling asleep. "Do you  
regret us?"  
Kurt lifted his head to look at Blaine. "I regret breaking up with you," he said. "Because then I wouldn’t  
have had to hurt Emilio- there would never have been an Emilio, even. And we both would have been  
saved a lot of stupid heartbreak and depression." He paused. Kurt couldn’t help feeling that Blaine would  
have wound up a very different person had they never broken up. "And... I think it would have saved you  
from the drugs," he added guiltily.  
"Maybe," Blaine mused. "But then again, there would be no Rosie if we had never broken up. I think she’s  
worth it, don’t you?" He smiled down at the sleeping baby in his arms.  
Kurt didn’t answer. He was too overwhelmed that Blaine could still have a positive outlook, after  
everything he had been through. There was that sunshine again, sneaking up on him when he least  
expected it. "I was thinking of you," he finally said. A blush crept onto his cheeks, but he barreled on.  
"When I... you know." He made a vague hand motion. "There’s a little bit of you in her," Kurt finished, and  
Blaine leaned over to give him a sweet kiss.  
***  
After Rosie was sleeping soundly in her crib, Kurt invited Blaine to stay for dinner and ordered a pizza.  
While they ate- Blaine picking off the mushrooms on his slice and laying them on Kurt’s plate, Kurt doing  
the same with the olives- they ended up on a difficult topic for Blaine: his parents. Kurt was encouraging  
him to reestablish contact with them. "You’re in a much better place now," he said around a mouthful of  
chewy crust. "You have a lot to show for yourself."  
Blaine huffed out a laugh. "It’s nowhere near their standards, though. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever live  
up to them. Plus, they aren’t going to be happy with me unless I magically turn straight." He flicked a stray  
piece of mushroom in Kurt’s direction.  
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"I know that’s what you think, and I know I don’t really have any sort of say here, seeing as I’ve never met  
them," Kurt replied, picking the mushroom from the table with his fingernail.  
"They never met you for a reason," Blaine said before Kurt could continue. "Not because of you," he  
amended at Kurt’s raised eyebrows, reaching across the table to clasp his hand. "Because of them."  
"I don’t want you to take them for granted," Kurt pressed. "Look, I know how important this is. I lost my  
mom, and I constantly wish I could have her back. Carole is wonderful, but she can’t replace her. And what  
I would give for her to meet Rosie..." Blaine squeezed his hand, his eyes sympathetic, and Kurt took a deep  
breath. "But it’ll never happen. And then having almost lost my dad- it was one of the hardest things I’ve  
ever gone through. How would you feel if one of them was sick, or already dead, and you had never even  
known?"  
"I’m sure they’re fine," Blaine mumbled into his pizza.  
By Blaine’s reaction, Kurt knew he was starting to get through to him. "Your parents haven’t always  
understood you, Blaine, or supported you, I know. But I would bet a thousand bucks they think about you  
every day. I bet they would want to hear from you, to know that you’re okay, and to reassure you that  
they’re okay, too."  
Blaine crumpled his napkin into a ball. "I don’t know."  
Kurt tried, one more time. "You said you wanted to make things right, remember? That’s why it was so  
important to you to pay us all back for your rehab. Don’t you think you’ll feel even better if you put things  
right with them, too?"  
***  
A week later, Kurt was having lunch with the girls at a small café. Rachel had forced him out of the  
apartment when she found him half-crazed, surrounded in the mess of designs, racks of finished  
garments, and piles of fabric their living room had become. Blaine was able to join them briefly on his  
lunch break before returning to his school. Kurt split his sandwich with him to save him the time and  
trouble of ordering his own, and they spent a few blissful minutes engrossed in each other’s presence,  
hands intertwined as they idly listened to Pixie and Rachel gushing about something while Santana rolled  
her eyes.  
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Blaine had to go back to work far too soon for Kurt’s liking. "I’ll see you later?" he said, looking up  
hopefully as Blaine pushed his chair in.  
"Sure. I’ll be there," Blaine replied, and swept down to place a quick kiss on Kurt’s cheek.  
"Hold on," Kurt said, noticing a crumb at the corner of Blaine’s lips as he pulled away. Kurt brushed it  
away with his thumb, his hand lingering along Blaine’s jaw longer than strictly necessary. "There. Now  
you’re all set."  
Blaine hummed low under his breath. "Thank you," he said, kissing Kurt’s other cheek.  
"I’ll see you later." Kurt said it confidently this time.  
"You will." Blaine winked covertly at him before winding his way through the tables. Kurt followed him  
with his eyes. At the door, Blaine turned, and seeing Kurt watching, grinned widely and blew him a kiss.  
Kurt returned the gesture, and Blaine mimed catching the kiss and holding it to his heart before strolling  
down the sidewalk, still unable to contain his smile.  
"You guys are the cutest couple ever," Rachel sighed, as Santana gagged beside her. Kurt turned back to  
the table to realize the girls had abandoned their conversation, finding Kurt and Blaine’s antics more  
interesting.  
He fumbled for words, a little abashed at having been watched. "Couple?"  
Pixie glanced at Santana and Rachel. "Yeah...?" she said questioningly.  
"It’s just that we haven’t really defined anything yet. We’re trying to take things slow," Kurt explained.  
Santana snorted, and he knew she was thinking of the night Indigo had died a very sexy death in her  
apartment. "There’s a difference between fooling around and being in a committed relationship!" Kurt  
added defensively.  
Rachel folded her hands in front of her. "Let’s look at the evidence, then, shall we?" she said. "You hold  
hands-"  
"You cuddle," Pixie added.  
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"He spends more time over at your apartment than he does at my place," Santana chimed in.  
Rachel nodded her agreement. "You spent this entire meal making googly eyes at each other."  
"I’ve caught you kissing more times than I can count," Pixie shrugged.  
"And I assume those noises coming from your room last night were sex noises," Rachel smirked, and Kurt  
reddened.  
Pixie’s eyes widened. "Unless you weren’t with Blaine!" she said, like she had just deduced a crime.  
"In which case I’d have to beat your ass for messing with my boy," Santana threatened.  
Kurt held up his hands. "Calm down, of course it was Blaine," he said, wanting very much to run out of the  
café at this point.  
"Face it, sweetie," Rachel said, sipping her coffee calmly. "The evidence doesn’t lie. You’re a couple. It’s  
love. Whether you two want to admit it or not."  
December 2017  
For about a week after his arrest, Blaine was afraid to use again, as if the cops would suddenly swarm  
down upon him if he so much as looked at another line of cocaine. But before long the craving was so bad  
that he caved. Santana never called him out on it, even though he was sure she knew he had gone back to  
it almost immediately. Instead, she just gave him pointed looks that made him feel guilty, told him to clean  
the bathroom every once in a while, turned away half of the guys he brought to the apartment, and picked  
up his pieces when he came home drunk or high.  
There was a half-assed attempt at finding another public school job before Blaine came crashing to his  
senses and realized that no one would hire a teacher with a criminal record, and even if they did, he was in  
no real condition to influence young minds when he couldn’t even handle himself. He started working  
menial jobs instead- offices, landscaping, waiting tables- none of which lasted long. It wasn’t enough  
money. Blaine wanted to contribute, to pitch in; he didn’t want to be Santana’s charity case. But there  
wasn’t much he could do- his paychecks were minuscule as it was, and when all was said and done, after  
buying food, alcohol, and coke, there were pennies left.  
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Out of desperation or insanity, he didn’t know, but he went back to his old haunt, The Dark Room; back to  
Tony, to take him up on his offer. It had been nine months since that ridiculous impromptu strip up on the  
stage, but Blaine hadn’t forgotten. It had been there all along, dangling visions of money in the back of his  
head.  
2021  
Blaine sat down on his bed, put his cell phone on the duvet beside him, opened the drawer of his bedside  
table, and took out a small velvet-covered box. He popped the lid up to reveal a simple silver band inside.  
Plucking it out of the box, he considered it, holding it between his thumb and index finger and twisting it  
in the light filtering in from the window. It still gleamed after spending the past five years hidden in the  
darkness.  
Blaine slipped the ring onto his finger, and it slid smoothly until sitting snug where it belonged, as if it had  
never been missing. He put the empty box back into his drawer and picked up his phone, dialing the  
number he knew by heart, even though he had long since removed it from his contacts list.  
A familiar voice, light and stately, answered. "Hello, Anderson residence. May I ask who’s calling, please?"  
Blaine swallowed. "Hi, Mom," he said.  
There was a pause. Just when Blaine didn’t think he could stand it anymore, she responded. "Blaine?"  
"Yeah, it’s me."  
"It’s really you? I didn’t think- how are you?" She sounded less put-together than Blaine could ever  
remember. And Kurt was right- the first thing she wanted to know was that he was okay.  
"I’m... doing well. Really well, actually. What about you?"  
"Oh, fine, just fine. I’ve missed you, Blaine."  
Blaine wondered if she missed him so much why she hadn’t called in five years, but he didn’t voice the  
thought, not when his mother sounded like she could break in two at the slightest harsh word. "Yeah, I... I  
miss you too." It was true, but not in the same way she meant it. He missed what they had before   
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everything changed the year he came out.  
"So tell me," she said, and Blaine could tell she was holding herself together, pressing on as if things were  
normal. "Tell me about your life. What have you been up to?"  
"Well, I just got a new job. I’m an assistant teacher at a private high school. It’s an alternative school for  
teens who don’t respond well to traditional schooling." He bit his lip, waiting to see if she would approve.  
"Are you happy there?" she asked, something he hadn’t expected. In the Anderson family, it was all about  
climbing the ladder, making a name for yourself, not personal satisfaction. At least that was how he  
thought things were.  
"I am," he said, and was surprised to hear himself respond so readily. "I mean, I just started last week, but  
I think it’s going well, and I’m really enjoying connecting with the students. That’s the best part, when I  
manage to get through to them. It makes me feel like I’m making an impact." Again, he was surprised at  
himself, at the details falling past his lips so easily.  
"That’s just wonderful, Blaine," his mother said. He couldn’t detect any holding back, and shade of  
judgment. She seemed genuinely happy for him.  
Her acceptance led him to trust her with another detail. "There’s, uh, there’s something else," he said.  
"Kurt and I- you remember Kurt? We’re back together."  
A brief pause this time. "Great. And you’re content with him as well?"  
"We’re very happy together."  
"I’m glad you’re happy. You sound happy. Perhaps your father and I could meet Kurt sometime, since we  
were never able to before."  
"That would be nice," Blaine said, hoping she was sincere. "Kurt has a fashion show coming up in a week.  
Maybe you could come out for Christmas and meet him then."  
"I’ll talk to your father about it."  
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"Is he around? Do you think I could say hello?"  
***  
Kurt stepped away from Blaine’s partially opened bedroom door then. He would give Blaine some privacy.  
But his heart was full- it was the first time he heard Blaine directly say they were a couple. He had to  
admit it- Rachel, Santana, and Pixie knew what they were talking about.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Four  
2021  
Kurt dressed for his first fashion show alone, in his room, long before the lights would go up. He wore his  
favorite suit, of his own design; not part of the collection that would be debuted in a matter of hours, but a  
custom creation made to compliment his best features. Underneath the stiff gray material, a simple white  
silk shirt, cool and comforting on his skin. A matching pocket square, a bright blue tie to bring out his eyes,  
and a pair of wing-tipped shoes completed the look- but there was one thing missing. It had been winking  
at him for two weeks now, sitting there knowingly in the little box on top of his dresser. He hadn’t sold it,  
despite Blaine’s intentions. Now he knew that part of him had been hanging onto the hope it symbolized,  
much the way Blaine had held onto it for years. And lately his finger had felt naked without it, his thoughts  
had turned to it often, and the girls’ and Blaine’s declarations that they were, in fact, a couple, had only  
confirmed the thoughts brewing in his mind. It was time.  
He opened the box, slid the old promise ring onto his finger, and twirled it around his skin a few times for  
good measure. Then he turned back to the full-length mirror he had been using to size himself up. Yes, he  
thought, admiring his reflection. He was complete now.  
***  
Half an hour to show time and backstage it was a flurry of chaos as partially dressed models scampered  
into their clothing, make-up artists applied layers of blush and eyeliner to the mens’ faces, hairstylists  
smoothed down unruly locks, and Kurt fretted from one person to the next, making last-minute  
adjustments and checking to be sure not a single stitch was out of place.  
A reassuring face appeared amidst the frenzy. Blaine had managed to sneak backstage. "I’m sorry, but I  
really can’t talk right now," Kurt said, patting him on the shoulder as he squeezed by to fix a model’s  
wrinkled sleeve.  
"Come here," Blaine replied, pulling Kurt back by the wrist. "Just for a second." He tugged Kurt into a free  
space between a rack of suits and a door, the models milling all around them.  
"But the show-"  
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"Will survive without you momentarily," Blaine finished, running his hands up and down Kurt’s arms  
encouragingly, settling to clasp his hands. "I just wanted to wish you luck before my parents get here.  
Everyone else has arrived- Rachel, Santana, Pixie, your family. And we’re all here to support you, okay? I  
know how you get- don’t worry yourself into a panic back here."  
Kurt nodded, taking a deep breath. He felt more calm and focused already. "Thank you."  
Blaine smiled. "It’s going to be amazing. Good luck, love." He darted in to kiss Kurt quickly and was lost to  
the crowd before Kurt had a chance to question him about the pet name he hadn’t used in five years.  
The model Kurt had stopped to fix his sleeve was watching him, a curious, caring gleam in his eyes. "Is that  
your boyfriend?" he asked, as Kurt stepped forward to adjust the sleeve.  
Kurt looked up. Boyfriend, couple, love? "Yes," he answered quietly. "He’s my... well, he’s my Blaine."  
***  
The show was, as far as Kurt could tell, a rousing success, if his boss’ elated comments and the jubilant  
atmosphere backstage were anything to judge by. He took his walk down the runway behind the last  
model to applause and cheers, the stage lights too bright for him to spot any of his friends or family in the  
audience, but he could distinctly make out Santana’s whistling and even his father’s "That’s my son!"  
Backstage again, he received hug after hug and every variation of congratulations possible as he loosened  
his tie, hanging it over the back of a chair and fanning the sweat off his neck. The models gradually filtered  
away to change into their street clothes, and eventually things were quiet enough for Kurt to notice a  
small group of three people standing patiently in one corner of the room.  
Blaine was waiting with his parents, holding a bouquet of flowers as they looked around with mild  
interest. Kurt caught Blaine’s eye and waved them over, putting on his best smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Anderson,  
I presume," he said, sticking his hand out in the hope of making a suitable impression. "It’s so lovely to  
meet you after such a long time."  
They each shook his hand in turn as Blaine introduced him. "Mom, Dad. This is my Kurt." Kurt looked up in  
surprise, marveling at Blaine’s choice of words, so similar to his own. Blaine was blushing, but looking  
back at him with so much passion he could have set the place on fire.  
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"Very nice to meet you, Kurt," Blaine’s father said, a small smile gracing his features.  
"The show was just delightful," his mother added politely, and Kurt thanked her.  
"I’m taking them out to that little café we like so much. Would you like to join us?" Blaine asked Kurt. "We  
could all celebrate and get to know each other over dessert."  
"I would love to," Kurt replied, smiling at the Andersons.  
"Sounds like a plan," Blaine’s father agreed.  
"If you could just give us a few minutes, Kurt and I will be ready soon," Blaine said, and his parents  
shuffled back to the corner of the room they had been waiting in.  
When they were safely out of hearing range, Kurt said, "Not so painful."  
"Which one? The show, or them?" Blaine teased.  
Kurt shrugged. "Both, I guess."  
"Yeah, you’re right. Your line was beautiful, by the way. I brought these for you. Congrats, Mr. Big Artiste."  
He handed the bouquet to Kurt.  
Kurt smirked. "Is that a Titanic reference?" He lifted the flowers to his nose.  
"Might be." Blaine played coy, eyes grazing the ceiling nonchalantly.  
"You know me so well." Kurt could smell lavender, and he finally took a second to actually look at the  
bouquet in his hands. "Lavender and purple irises," he said appreciatively. "These are the same kindwait." Kurt met Blaine’s eyes. They were sparkling. "These are my mother’s favorite flowers. The same  
kind of flowers I received after that night, when you met Emilio, and then had that breakdown on my  
couch." Blaine just nodded at him, a tiny smile quirking his lips upward. "I thought Emilio had sent them,"  
Kurt finished, his tone still wide and wondering.  
Blaine hugged Kurt close, crushing the blooms between them, but neither of them cared. "Thank you for   
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not giving up on me," he said softly. They broke apart. "Now," Blaine said, louder and more firmly, "what  
do you say we get out of here?"  
Kurt smiled warmly. They both reached for the tie he had flung over the chair, and their hands met with a  
faint metallic click. They stilled, each staring at the matching rings on their fingers, and each just now  
realizing the private commitment they both had made once again. Then Blaine reverently took Kurt’s  
hand, his thumb rubbing at the promise ring encircling his finger. Kurt watched Blaine’s expression as he  
gazed at the ring, tender and almost aching with love. It took his breath away.  
Without a word, Blaine picked up the blue tie and looped it around Kurt’s neck, tying it deftly and pulling  
the knot close, folding Kurt’s collar over top with care. Kurt caught his hand as he finished and interlaced  
their fingers, content with the way their rings slotted together. Blaine’s gaze raised to meet Kurt’s eyes as  
Kurt brought their hands up to his lips and kissed the ring on Blaine’s finger. They smiled at each other.  
Then they went to join Blaine’s parents, hands linked, hearts whole.  
July 2026  
"Uncle Blaine, Uncle Blaine, look at what I can do!" The little girl hung upside-down on the monkey bars,  
her rainbow tutu and long curtain of dark hair swinging freely.  
"Are you kidding? That’s nothing!" Blaine somehow managed to maneuver himself until he was sitting on  
top of the bars, looking down on the playground below.  
"I can do that, too, silly!" Rosie nimbly swung herself up to sit facing Blaine. "Ha! Told you so."  
"That’s what I get for challenging a gymnast," Blaine mumbled to himself. "Alright, alright," he said louder.  
"I concede. You win."  
Rosie’s pale blue eyes lit up. "Yes! Victory is mine!" She dropped down to the wood chips below.  
Blaine laughed, jumping down as well. "Only if you can escape... the tickle monster!" He made grabby  
hands at Rosie, who shrieked and ran away, escaping to the swings. Safely out of Blaine’s reach, she stuck  
out her tongue and started to pump her legs back and forth. It wasn’t long before she realized she wasn’t  
strong enough to propel herself- her feet didn’t reach the ground.  
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"Need help?" Blaine asked, approaching her with a cheeky smile.  
Rosie nodded. "These swings are too big. Can you give me a push?"  
"What’s the magic word?"  
"Please!"  
"Underdog?"  
She kicked her legs back and forth gleefully. "Yes, please!"  
"Okay," Blaine sing-songed, coming around behind her. "But you better be prepared. You know I’m the  
king of underdogs."  
"You give the best ones."  
"Thank you, baby." He pulled the chains of the swing, dragging her backward.  
"Welcome."  
"Ready?" She nodded vigorously. "Alright. Here- we- go!" Blaine ran underneath, pushing her all the way  
through the arc and letting going when Rosie was at the highest peak. She broke into joyous giggles,  
squealing as the wind rushed through her hair. Blaine dashed away, waving over his shoulder and heading  
to the grove of trees at the edge of the playground.  
"Hey! Come back!" Rosie grinned widely at him.  
"Sorry- one underdog limit! Kick your legs like Mommy showed you!" Blaine called. He darted through a  
group of kids playing tag and left her to master the swings, collapsing onto the plaid blanket where Rachel  
and Kurt were sitting, propped up against a tree.  
"She’s going to wear you out," Kurt warned.  
"Nah. We’ll tag-team," Blaine replied, crawling into his arms and settling against his chest. "I nominate   
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Rachel next time she needs someone to come to her rescue."  
"Hmph. You just want more time to cuddle with your husband," Rachel countered.  
"Guilty as charged." Blaine turned in Kurt’s arms, kissing the corner of his jaw.  
They all watched Rosie flying through the air for a while, until she launched herself into the sky on an  
upswing and jumped gracefully to the wood chips. Rachel clucked her tongue in disapproval as she  
skipped over to the three of them, but made no further comment when Rosie flung herself onto the  
blanket. "Did you see that, Daddy?" she asked, hanging on Kurt’s shoulder.  
"I sure did," Kurt replied, unable to contain his smile at her excitement. "Very impressive."  
"Pretty soon I bet you’ll move up to the next level in gymnastics class, with tricks like that," Rachel added.  
Rosie’s head whipped to stare at her mother, eyes wide. "You really think so?"  
"Mm hmm."  
"I’m gonna be the best gymnast ever," Rosie said proudly. "I’m gonna go to the ‘lympics and everything."  
Blaine laughed. "Yep," he said, patting Rachel’s thigh. "She’s definitely her mother’s daughter."  
"What’s that mean?" Rosie’s eyes grew confused.  
"Nothing, sweetie. You can do whatever you put your pretty mind to," Kurt said, gently brushing her hair  
out of her eyes.  
"Uncle Blaine, you’re pretty good too," Rosie said. " You can go to the ‘lympics with me."  
"Oh yeah, I saw those sweet moves on the monkey bars," Kurt teased.  
Blaine pinched his waist. "Thanks for the invite, Rosie, but I think I’d rather watch you get the gold."  
"Oh, right. We don’t want to have to fight for a medal."  
Contents ↑  
\- - 194 - -  
"Good thinking." He tapped her nose with a finger.  
"You know what I think?" Rachel said. "I think it’s time to go home and get ready for dinner."  
"Aw, Mom! Come watch me practice my cartwheels!"  
"Okay. Just for a minute, though." Rachel and Rosie got up and walked, hand in hand, to the grassy area  
beside the trees.  
"How excited do you think she’ll be tomorrow when her coach makes the announcement she’s ready to  
move up a level?" Kurt wondered aloud.  
"My earplugs are ready," Blaine said simply.  
They sat watching Rosie tumble over the grass as Rachel corrected her position or clapped when she was  
successful. Blaine pulled out his guitar from the case leaning against the tree and fiddled around, letting  
absent-minded melodies float over the park. "Play it," Kurt murmured into his ear.  
"Play what?" Blaine teased.  
"You know. Our song."  
Blaine played a mangled acoustic version of Justin Timberlake’s "Sexyback." It was hardly recognizable,  
but Kurt almost immediately giggled and swatted him on the arm. "Blaine!"  
"What? It’s true. We are bringing sexy back." Before Kurt could argue, Blaine abruptly switched the  
melody to "Teenage Dream."  
"Hm, not the song I’m looking for." Kurt’s voice was tender, his fingers nimbly dancing along Blaine’s  
arms. "But I like that one, too."  
"I would hope so." Slowly, Blaine carried the notes into a gentler song, and "Somewhere Only We Know"  
formed, lilting into the air and mingling with Rosie’s cries of delight as she nailed a cartwheel.  
It was the right song. Kurt didn’t speak his approval, but hummed the chorus into Blaine’s ear as he


	23. Capítulo 16

Chapter Sixteen  
2021  
"Okay, we need to get this one. It’s adorable," Rachel enthused. She held up a tiny white lace pinafore. "And   
a girl can never have enough dresses."  
"Gorgeous," Kurt agreed, fanning out the skirt. "Our Toast is going to be the classiest baby in Manhattan.   
I’m so glad you found this vintage children’s clothing store. It’s genius."  
"Isn’t it?" Rachel rifled through the row of dresses in front of her. "You have to dig for the gems, but it’s   
worth it. No way we’re putting her in generic pink floral prints."  
"Not when she has a Broadway actress for a mother and a fashion designer for a father. Come to think of   
it, we sound rather high-maintenance. This poor child." Kurt started to search through a rack of   
outerwear.  
"Oh, please- she’ll be spoiled rotten and you know it. And under our tutelage, she’ll grow to have a love for   
musical theater, a talent for singing, and an impeccable eye for fashion."  
"Or she’ll completely resent the frilly outfits and forced drama classes and as a result, she’ll go the tomboy   
or emo route," Kurt shrugged. "We could have quite a handful to deal with in fifteen years’ time. What if   
we have to play sports, Rachel?"  
She laughed from her side of the rack. "You sound like that would be the worst thing that could ever   
happen."  
"My reputation would never survive. My skin would be a disaster from all the sweating. I don’t think I   
even own any sports-appropriate attire anymore, since I lent my sweat pants to Blaine and have yet to   
receive them back." He held a red pea coat at arm’s length, considering.  
"Lucky you have some time to acquire more, then. She’s not going to be doing much besides sleeping,   
eating, pooping, and crying for a few months at least."  
"But sports, Rachel." He shuddered and showed her the coat over the rack, eyebrows raised.  
"You were on both the football team and the cheerleading squad in high school, albeit briefly. I’m sure   
you’ll manage. We should get the coat, by the way. It’s a classic."  
Kurt’s phone rang as he added the red pea coat to his basket, on top of the white pinafore. He fished for it   
in his pocket, but didn’t recognize the number when he read the screen. Still, he pressed the button to   
accept the call. "Hello?"  
"I’m calling for Mr. Kurt Hummel," a gruff, unfamiliar voice said.  
"Speaking." He held the phone up with his shoulder as he continued to push aside the clothing, piece by   
piece.  
"Mr. Hummel, this is Officer Gregory Fielding with the NYPD. I’m calling because you were listed as the   
emergency contact in a Mr. Emilio Rodriguez’s cell phone."  
Kurt stopped moving, stock-still. His mind flashed to the last time he had seen Emilio- earlier that morning   
before he left the apartment, asking him to pick up an order of linens for the wedding, since Kurt had   
insisted on creating their own instead of using the hotel’s provided ones. "Oh God, is everything okay?"  
Rachel’s head snapped up from down the aisle. "Do you, in fact, know Mr. Rodriguez?" the officer asked.  
Kurt swallowed, his heart beating fast. "I’m his fiancé. What’s wrong?" He almost didn’t dare ask, afraid to   
know the answer.  
The officer took a deep breath as Rachel approached, looking serious. "I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad   
news, but your fiancé was hit by a vehicle while crossing the street. He’s been taken to Lennox Hill   
Hospital with moderate injuries. It’s part of our procedure to inform the next of kin, and as we could find   
no clear blood relation in his phone’s contact list-"  
"His family’s all in Venezuela."  
"-we contacted you, since you were listed as his ICE."  
"Kurt, what’s-" Rachel started, but he shook his head at her. He started to walk down the aisle, toward the   
exit of the store, and she followed, hurrying to keep up.  
"I’m on my way to the hospital right now," Kurt told the officer. "Is he going to be okay?"  
"That’s something you’ll have to ask the hospital staff, Mr. Hummel. I can, however, inform you that he did   
appear to be in stable condition on the scene."  
"Okay. Thank you." He hung up. "Emilio was hit by a car; he’s in the hospital," he informed Rachel, whose   
eyes widened. They rushed onto the sidewalk and hailed a cab, their baskets of clothing abandoned in the   
aisle of the store.  
***  
Kurt sat slumped in a chair in the waiting room. Rachel had wandered off to get coffee for them both, her   
seat immediately taken over by a man holding an ice pack to his eye, and the bustling noise of waiting   
patients was giving Kurt a headache. They hadn’t been able to tell him much about Emilio- the stoplight   
had turned green while he was still crossing the street, and a car had accelerated too quickly, clipping him   
as he reached the corner. He had been lucky, thanks to the car’s low speed. The biggest damage was   
bruising, two fractured ribs, and one broken rib that had caused a punctured lung. He was in surgery to   
repair the lung, and Kurt would have to wait.  
As he warily watched the various patients awaiting care, the automatic doors whooshed open and a   
familiar face came into view, bobbing along in his corduroy jacket and knitted scarf. Great. As if he didn’t   
have enough to deal with already, and now this, too. Blaine spotted Kurt where he was squashed into his   
corner and wove his way through the waiting room until he reached him. There were no free seats and he   
was forced to stand awkwardly in front of Kurt. "Hey. I came as soon as I heard," he said.  
Kurt crossed his arms, unsatisfied with Blaine’s lack of explanation for his behavior at his apartment last   
week. "I thought you were mad at me."  
"Mad at you?" Blaine repeated, blinking owlishly.  
"Yeah. The last time I saw you, you had been avoiding me for days and then proceeded to storm out on   
me."  
Blaine shuffled his feet, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Can we just do what you said? Forget it ever   
happened?"  
Kurt sniffed, feigning aloofness. "About time you take my suggestion." They both looked up as a doctor   
entered the waiting room, but she called someone else’s name, and an elderly man stood up and slowly   
passed between them, a crying little boy taking his chair. "What are you doing here, anyway?" Kurt asked   
when the man had moved beyond their space. "I was under the impression you don’t even like Emilio. Or   
do you?"  
"I didn’t come for him," Blaine replied softly, his voice almost lost in all the noise. Kurt looked up, and   
Blaine’s mouth quirked into a mellow smile.  
Kurt returned the smile, but it faded quickly. "I feel so guilty," he confided. "He was out picking up linens. I   
was to supposed to get them, but Rachel asked me to go shopping, and I didn’t want to miss out. So I asked   
Emilio if he could get the linens. He wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I had just done it myself like I was   
supposed to." Kurt leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, putting his head in his hands.  
Blaine crouched down so that he was level with Kurt. He tentatively reached out and wrapped his hand   
around Kurt’s shoulder, squeezing gently. It was the first time he had touched him since the incident at   
Kurt’s office. Kurt felt the warmth radiate out from underneath Blaine’s hand in tingling bolts. "You didn’t   
crash that car into him," Blaine said. "It’s-"  
"Kurt Hummel?" a doctor called from the doorway to the waiting room. Not your fault, Kurt finished in his   
head as he stood to greet the doctor, Blaine trailing behind as if unsure whether or not to follow. The   
doctor explained that Emilio was out of surgery, but still sleeping because of the anesthetic. The surgery   
had been routine, and they had successfully repaired the lung. Kurt heaved a sigh of relief, thanked the   
doctor, and allowed Blaine to pull him into a brief one-armed hug.  
***  
Kurt spent his afternoon doting on Emilio, leaving his bedside only to purchase a sandwich at the   
cafeteria, and Blaine hung around with Rachel. They had a laugh over the multiple people who thought   
they were a couple and that Rachel was in labor, split a vegan dark chocolate candy bar Rachel had in her   
purse- Blaine gave back his half after one bite, grimacing- and strolled the halls. Hours later, long after   
Rachel had gone home and the sleeping Emilio had woken up, Blaine leaned against the wall outside of the   
hospital room. Kurt and Emilio’s voices floated out into the hallway as Blaine listened. "I’m sorry," he   
heard Kurt say. "I never should have asked you to go."  
"Don’t worry about it," Emilio’s voice, heavy with sleep, replied. "It’s not your fault, babe."  
"People keep telling me that, but I still feel bad." Blaine frowned. He didn’t think he had actually had the   
chance to tell Kurt, though he had wanted to say it. "Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything else?"   
Kurt’s voice was muted, gentle and warm, and Blaine pushed aside the aches of pain he felt sharply in his   
heart at Kurt’s tone. He could remember when Kurt used to talk like that to him, all cozy comfort and love.  
"No, I’m fine. Please don’t feel bad about it." Blaine peeked into the room. Emilio was propped up against   
the pillows and Kurt’s back was to the door as he sat at the bedside, holding his fiance’s hand, his thumb   
brushing over Emilio’s fingers gently. "Besides," Emilio added, reaching up to brush a lock of hair off   
Kurt’s forehead, "if you had gone to get the linens, you might be the one in this bed, and I wouldn’t have   
been able to stand that. Come here."  
Blaine backed into the hall again as they kissed. This jealousy would drive him mad if they kept that up.   
Their affection made him long for something he hadn’t had in years, had never had except with Kurt, and   
Blaine couldn’t help but think that Emilio didn’t know how fortunate he was to have him. It was so hard to   
be around them, knowing that he could have been Kurt’s, if he hadn’t trashed the best thing that had ever   
happened to him. And it was so tempting to make it go away for a while- he knew where to get what he   
needed, and he knew how much better it would make him feel, how much easier it would be.  
But he also knew that although it would be a temporary fix, it would become a permanent problem, were   
he to sink to that again. He would lose Kurt completely if he resumed using, and then he would lose   
himself, too. He had to do this the hard way, not only to keep Kurt a part of his life, but to prove to himself   
that he was capable.  
December 2016  
Christmas Eve and Blaine wandered tipsily in a multicolored, jingle-belled stupor down the sidewalk. He   
didn’t know the destination. All that mattered were the two beautiful boys guiding him. "I am so totally   
smashed," he admitted, and they both laughed lightly. The tall one, Sean or Seth or whatever his name   
was, linked his hand with Blaine’s, and the other one, his boyfriend, floated a few steps ahead, touching   
each lamppost and garbage can as he passed. Blaine closed his eyes and allowed himself to be pulled   
along, tethered like a kite, as they passed through alleys and deserted side streets. The painted swirls of   
color behind his eyes drifted away, and it wasn’t until the door banged behind him that he became aware   
they had entered a building.  
"Not much further now," one of the boys murmured.  
The three of them tripped their way up four flights of dimly-lit stairs, finally reaching a faded door   
covered in black graffiti and falling against it in a heap of giggles. Sean-Seth dug around in boyfriend’s   
back pockets, making a show of groping his ass, until he found a set of keys and pushed one into the lock.   
They all tumbled inside. When Blaine managed to drag himself to his feet again, tipping sideways into the   
wall as the shabby apartment careened around him, he started to unbutton his coat, but Sean-Seth stilled   
his hand and said, "There’s no heat in this place," his breath wisping out into the darkness.  
The boyfriend tugged Blaine by the elbows, leading him blindly. "Bedroom," he said. "This way." Blaine   
wondered why they didn’t put on the lights, then thought maybe they didn’t own any, then thought it was   
more fun like this anyway, as he bumped into a table and laughed.  
"Take out the stuff. I’ll put on some music," Sean-Seth said from somewhere in the darkness, and it was so   
funny that Blaine kept on laughing all the way to the bedroom. The boyfriend pushed him gently, and he   
fell backwards, landing on a mattress on the floor. He bounced a few times, still snorting and giggling, as   
the boyfriend rifled in a drawer somewhere to Blaine’s left.  
"Here we go," he said triumphantly, shoving the drawer shut and flopping onto the mattress   
unceremoniously beside Blaine. He bit the finger of his glove and tugged it off with his teeth. Then he   
started to spread some things out on the mattress between them: a plastic Ziploc bag, which Blaine made   
a grab for before his hand was slapped away, a hand-held mirror, a razor blade.  
From somewhere far away, music wafted into the bedroom, a song Blaine thought might be Elliott Smith.   
I’m floating in a black balloon... Sean-Seth stumbled into the room behind the music, catching his foot on   
the edge of the mattress, falling half on top of Blaine, crawling over his lap to find a free space. "You all   
set?" he asked.  
"You ruined it," the boyfriend replied, and Blaine looked down to see him arranging white powder on the   
mirror, using the razor to make it into a pattern of straight lines. He felt a jolt of excitement and danger,   
and smiled.  
Sean-Seth was looking at him. "What’s the punch line?" he slurred.  
"So I sort of lied to you guys," Blaine said, face cracking into a bigger smile. "I never did this before."  
"Jesus, you’re a coke virgin," the boyfriend said, like he was horrified; then he added, in a perfectly   
nonchalant tone, "Well, first time for everything."  
Between is all you’ve ever seen or been... Blaine heard a loud, short snorting noise, and turned to see Sean-  
Seth with his face to the mirror, taking in a line through a rolled-up dollar bill. He lifted his head slowly,   
sniffed once, and passed the dollar bill to his boyfriend, who repeated his actions. Then it was Blaine’s   
turn, the last remaining line waiting, ready, on the mirror, the dollar bill passed to him.  
Blaine tilted his head down to the mirror, the room spinning at his sudden movement. He held the dollar   
bill against his nostril, brought his free hand up to pinch the other side of his nose, caught a brief glimpse   
of himself, wild and ragged in the silvery smooth surface of the mirror, and snorted.  
He lifted his head. Sean-Seth and his boyfriend were kissing, hands roaming and tugging at clothes. Blaine   
could feel a dull, bitter burn in the back of his throat. He brought a hand up to his nose, rubbing at the   
twitchy phantom runny sensation. "I don’t know if I like it," he said, but no one seemed to hear him. Sean-  
Seth broke the kiss and tracked his fingertips around on the mirror, gathering up the remnants of the   
cocaine, and rubbed it under his lips, on his gums.  
Fit poorly and arrange the sight... "Does that make it feel good or something?" Blaine asked, and Sean-Seth   
nodded.  
"Feels numb. Feels tingly." He was talking very fast, and moving the mirror to the floor, and his boyfriend   
was casting aside his coat, and breathing puffs of pale mist into the air between the three of them. Blaine’s   
mind unfurled in a million different directions, all at once. So much to say, so much to do. He felt strong; he   
felt powerful and full of life. He started to fumble with the buttons of his coat, and Sean-Seth helped,   
tugging away Blaine’s scarf, the silky material brushing his neck, and pushing the coat off his shoulders   
until it fell to the side of the mattress.  
Blaine realized he had been babbling, talking a stream of unending words as the other two boys continued   
to shed their outerwear. His brain finally caught up in time for him to hear himself say, "We gotta do   
something, we can’t just sit here, come on, let’s go out, it’s Christmas, I bet there’s something fun to do out   
there." He started to get up from the mattress, but felt a strong hand tug him back down.  
The boyfriend laughed under his breath. "Oh yeah, you’re feeling it," he said, just a soft undertone. "Plenty   
to do right here. Watch." Doll it up in virgin white... Blaine obeyed, laying back on his elbows to watch in a strange sort of transfixed state as Sean-Seth and his boyfriend kissed again, slowly at first, tongues darting   
in and out, building up the momentum until they were both gasping and reaching to pull off each other’s   
clothing. Bare chests were revealed, flies were undone, hands grasping and clutching hips, lips and teeth   
seeking out necks and collarbones. Blaine watched, the make-out intensifying by the minute.  
You disappoint me... Sean-Seth pressed his boyfriend, now down to just his boxers, into the mattress next   
to Blaine, and said, "Wait." The boyfriend reached out, slipping his fingers up under Blaine’s shirt and   
tickling them up his spine, against his skin. At the same time, Sean-Seth suddenly turned and shoved his   
hand between Blaine’s legs, roughly cupping him. He groaned. "So hard already, just from our little show,"   
he said, and Blaine whimpered, suppressing a moan. "Why don’t you join us?" Sean-Seth invited, eyes   
flashing with heat.  
A distorted reality’s now a necessity to be free... Somehow Blaine found himself dragged in all directions, the   
unnamed boyfriend raking his fingers across Blaine’s chest as he tugged off his shirt, while Sean-Seth   
pulled both his jeans and underwear down in one swift pull. Somehow he found four hands casting   
shivering trails up his thighs, down his neck, around his nipples, up his shaft, sparking pinpricks of   
fireworks everywhere. In the street below carolers sang pure and clear, holy voices in a most unholy city.  
Shine on me baby, ‘cause it’s raining in my heart...  
2021  
When Kurt arrived home from the hospital, late that night, he was drained and exhausted. He entered his   
apartment quietly so as not to wake Rachel, and was surprised to see the lights still on in the living room   
and kitchen. Blaine was standing at the sink in the kitchen, washing the pots and pans. "Hey. I didn’t want   
you to starve when you got home, so I made dinner," he said, gesturing to the table, where a plate full of   
food was sitting. "If it cooled too much I can heat it up for you."  
Kurt dropped his keys on the table and hung his coat over the back of a chair. "Thanks," he said, sitting   
down to tuck into the meal. "That means a lot, Blaine."  
"I knew you’d be too tired to make yourself something," Blaine replied. He went back to scrubbing at the   
pot in his soapy hands.  
"You didn’t tell me you were leaving," Kurt said around a mouthful of food.  
"I left a couple hours after Rachel. Didn’t want to disturb you and Emilio. How is he doing now?"  
"Okay. Sleeping a lot. The doctor thinks he’ll only be there for a few days at most, though."  
When Blaine finished washing the dishes, Kurt was still picking at what was left of his dinner, no longer   
hungry. "I’ll run you a bath, and then you can get some sleep," Blaine said, drying his hands.  
"You don’t have to do that. You should go home; it’s late."  
"It’s no trouble," Blaine insisted. "You took care of me. Now I’m going to take care of you." He headed   
toward the bathroom. In a minute Kurt could hear the water running and the sounds of Blaine opening   
and shutting drawers and cabinets. He cleared the last scraps of his food into the garbage and put the   
plate and his silverware in the dishwasher, then padded across the living room, feeling his fatigue all the   
way down to his bones.  
Blaine was adding Kurt’s favorite bath salts to the steaming tub when Kurt walked in. "I don’t know if you   
still take your baths the same way you did when we were together," he said. "I hope it’s okay." The water   
smelled blissful, floral and pleasantly dewy. There was a stack of fresh, fluffy towels resting on the edge of   
the counter, and a tinkling piano melody wafting quietly across the room from the Ipod dock Rachel   
normally used to blast show tunes for belting along with during her showers. Blaine stood next to the tub,   
looking up at Kurt with anxious eyes, waiting for his approval.  
"This is better than okay," Kurt started, taking in the scene. "Blaine, this is..." He couldn’t finish. Tears   
smarted at the corners of his eyes and he was so tired he couldn’t prevent them from trickling down over   
his cheeks.  
Blaine was quick to come to his rescue. "Hey," he said, stepping forward to embrace Kurt. "It’s alright.   
You’re alright. Emilio’s going to be fine." Kurt nodded into Blaine’s shoulder, but what Blaine didn’t   
understand was that Kurt wasn’t crying because of that.  
"Too many hospitals lately," Kurt choked out. It still wasn’t the reason for his tears.  
"Come on," Blaine said after a moment of Kurt sniveling into his collar. "Let’s get you into the tub, and   
you’ll feel better." He pulled back and unbuttoned Kurt’s vest, sliding it off his shoulders before folding it   
and setting it next to the pile of towels. Then he tugged the end of Kurt’s shirt out of his pants and started on the buttons, working from Kurt’s neck down to his navel. He kept his eyes trained on Kurt’s, not   
watching his hands as they popped each button open. "Still with the layers," he murmured, and Kurt knew   
he was trying to get him to laugh, but it just made the tears begin to flow again. Here was Blaine, caring so   
delicately for him, with so much love in his eyes, not even trying to do anything sexually despite the fact   
that he was, when it came down to it, undressing Kurt. He couldn’t help but cry at Blaine’s tenderness, and   
at the feelings he knew he cradled within himself, but was too afraid to face.  
His emotions were overwhelming. Confusing. But for now he let them linger in the back of his mind, too   
exhausted to address them. Instead, he detached, allowing Blaine guide him to the tub with sure hands,   
allowing himself to sink into the frothy water. Blaine wiped the tears from Kurt’s face with the warm   
washcloth before brushing his fingers lightly over his cheek, and he closed the door conside


	24. Nova história

Cap 1

When Kurt Hummel was a little boy, his absolute favorite time of the day, hands down, was bed time. 

Not because he liked to sleep (far from it, actually) but because bed time meant story time. And story time meant he got to cuddle up close to his mom, he got to breathe in her scent, and he got to be so, so, so happy.

At six years old, Kurt thought life just couldn’t get any better.

“And so the valiant knight slayed the evil dragon and then he finally—”

“And he finally saves the princess! And they live happily ever after!” 

Elizabeth Hummel smiled down at her son, getting a toothy grin in return and she hugged him close to her side, “And they lived happily ever after,” she agreed, placing the book on their laps and running her hand gently through Kurt’s still slightly-damp hair.

Kurt snuggled closer into her side before reaching out and grabbing the book in his hands.

“Mommy?”

“Hmm?” Elizabeth asked, watching her son as he continued to stare at the pictures in front of him.

“Do you think I can do that someday?”

“Slay a dragon? Sorry, but I think you’re outta luck for finding a dragon in Ohio, kid,” she told him, laughter dancing in her eyes.

“No,” Kurt shook his head, flipping to the next page, pointing to the picture of the princess and the knight riding off into the sunset, “that,” Kurt said quietly, eyes never straying from the book.

“Oh, well, sweetie, I’m sure one day you will. When you’re all grown up, you’ll find the princess that you’ll want to sweep off her feet and live happily ever after.”

Kurt continued to stare at the page for a long time, staying silent before looking up, his blue eyes staring questioningly into his mother’s.

“What… what if I… would it be okay if… maybe I was the… the princess? And then a knight can come and rescue me?”

Elizabeth stayed quiet, staring at her son in a way Kurt had never seen.

Finally she spoke, a small smile appearing on her face. “If that’s what you really want Kurt, then I really do believe that one day, one day you’ll get that.”

Kurt was content with her answer, nodding happily before dropping the book and wrapping his small arms around his mother as much as he could.

“I really want that. I wanna have a …mommy, what’s that word?” He asked, peering up through the tendrils of brown hair that flopped onto his forehead.

“A soulmate?” She asked as she closed the book and put it on the nightstand next to Kurt’s bed.

“Yeah! That. Like the princess and the knight or…or like you and daddy! Daddy’s your soulmate, right mommy?”

Elizabeth grinning down at Kurt nodding, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes baby, your daddy is my soulmate.”

Kurt nodded again, burrowing down into his covers, clinging tightly to a stuffed animal as his eyes began to droop.

“I wanna soulmate. Someone who’ll love me like you love daddy,” he said quietly, drifting off in the middle of his sentence.

Elizabeth brushed some hair back before kissing his forehead and standing up quietly. She flicked off Kurt’s lamp in exchange for the dimmer light of his nightlight.

Stories of princesses and knights and dragons and soulmates were just things Elizabeth told her son before bed.

Kurt had always wanted them to be true. 

Especially the soulmates part.

He had no idea just how right he was.

**

When Kurt Hummel was seven years old, his dad wanted him to join little league. 

Instead, Kurt joined tap dancing.

He was great at it, a total natural, and even Burt had to admit, seeing his son’s happy face every day after practice was worth storing away the bat and mitt he had been so excited to buy Kurt.

Some of the fathers from Kurt’s second grade class, however, didn’t exactly see it his way.

“You have to set boundaries, Burt. You can’t let your son think he can do whatever he wants… especially when it’s obviously the wrong choice.”

“Wrong choice?” Burt asked, subconsciously crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced at his son in the classroom. Elizabeth was speaking to his teacher for Parent-Teacher night.

“Come on, dancing? Ya gotta know that stuff’s for sissies. You gotta toughen him up now before—”

“Before what? Your boy starts picking on mine?” Burt asked, voice beginning to rise slightly.

“No, no, just—”

“Look, my kid is happy dancing. They’re only seven years old; they know a better world than we do. So if dancing is what Kurt likes, then that’s exactly what he’s gonna do," he told the other man angrily before walking into the classroom and ruffling Kurt’s hair.

“Wanna go play outside while your mom finishes talking to Mrs. Aarons?”

“Can I show you my new routine instead, Daddy?”

Burt looked down into his son’s eyes, watching as they lit up at the chance to show his father what he could do.

“Sure, kiddo.”

**  
When Kurt was eight years old, he was one of the best dancers in his class.

He was so good, in fact, that he got a part in the upperclassmen' spring recital.

“Isn’t that awesome, Mommy? I can’t wait to tell Daddy!” Kurt said excitedly from the backseat, kicking his feet against the seat in front of him in time with the beat in his head.

Elizabeth looked at her son through the rearview mirror, smiling at her son’s excitement. 

“So Kurt, since this is your special night, what would you like for—”

She cut off her own sentence with a gasp and a choked-off scream and before Kurt could ask what was going on, everything around him was spinning and breaking. Glass shattered all around him as his body began to ache.

“M-Mommy?” He called out weakly, just before everything around him went black.

-  
Kurt woke up to lots of beeping around him and a strange smell that reminded him of the stuff his mommy put on her fingers to wash away the nail paint.

He could hear voices around him, but he was too tired to open his eyes. 

He recognized his daddy’s voice, though.

“So he’ll be okay?”

“Kurt has a minor concussion and a broken wrist, but other than that, it’s just a lot of cuts and bruises. He should be waking up soon.”

“A-And Liz?”

The other man was quiet; Kurt risked opening his eyes slightly, trying to get a better idea as to what was happening.

That was a bad idea, however, because the second he did, bright light flooded his vision and seared into his brain, making him groan out in pain.

“Kurt?”

Suddenly his dad was there, hovering over him and blocking out the harsh light.

“D-Daddy?” Kurt whispered quietly, his eyes scrunched tightly together. He heard something click and tried opening his eyes again, the room now darker, easier to see in.

“Hey, baby boy, how’re ya feelin’?” Burt asked as he sat next to Kurt’s hospital bed, stroking a few pieces of hair away from Kurt’s face.

Kurt shrugged his tiny shoulders lightly, turning half-lidded eyes towards his father.

“Wha’ happened?”

Burt took in a deep breath before reaching down to hold his son’s hand in his.

“Th-There was an accident, buddy. Your mommy, she… when you guys were coming home from practice, the car was hit by another, bigger car.”

“Oh,” was all Kurt replied, exhaustion sweeping over him.

“Where’s mommy?” He asked quietly, fighting to keep his eyes open just a little longer.

Kurt missed the way his father’s eyes began to well up when a yawn escaped him, losing the battle with his eyelids as they finally slipped shut.

“You’ll see her soon, Kurt, I promise.”

Kurt mumbled his reply before letting the exhaustion win out and pull him back into the darkness.

**

When Kurt was eight years old, he stood at his mom’s grave, clutching his dad’s hand as hard as he could.  
He didn’t understand this.

He didn’t understand any of it.

Why did his mom have to die? Why couldn’t she stay with him like she promised she would?

He didn’t like any of this.

He didn’t like that everyone was wearing black and was crying.

He didn’t like that everyone at school looked at him like he was about to break.

He didn’t like that it was sunny and the birds were singing.

Why should they sing? There was nothing happy to sing about.

Why did everything else get to be happy when he was so so sad?

When Kurt Hummel was eight years old he realized the world wasn’t fair.

**

SLAM.

“Watch it, homo!” 

Kurt watched from his spot on the floor as the meathead jocks continued walking down the hall, fist-bumping each other and laughing as they turned the corner.

Gotta love the first day back to school, Kurt thought bitterly to himself as he got up off of the ground and fixed the strap over his shoulder, heading to his first period class. Just one more damn year and I’m gone. Goin’ to New York and never looking back.

After four shoulder-checks, a slushy and endless slurs, Kurt had had enough. He opted to skip Glee Club for the day and just head home.

It’s only the first day, Kurt reconciled with himself, and Mr. Schue will probably just blather on about his summer and then cut to the chase about nationals.

Nothing Earth-shatteringly important, he’s sure. 

**

Kurt’s in the middle of his advanced chemistry homework when there’s a knock on his door and a head pops in.

“Hey.”

“Ever heard of knocking, Finn? Let me tell you about it. It’s this thing you do when a door’s closed. It’ll change your life.” 

“Dude, why weren’t you at Glee today?” Finn asked as he opened the door fully and walked a few steps into his stepbrother’s room.

Kurt shrugged, eyes never leaving the notebook in his lap as he jotted down a formula from his textbook.

“I wasn’t up to it. It was only the first day, Mr. Schuester will understand.”

“Whatever, but Kurt, there’s this—”

“Finn, I have homework to do, I really don’t wanna talk about Glee right now, okay?”

“But dude, there’s a ne–”

“Finn.” Kurt used what everyone called the ‘bitchface voice,’ meaning he was two seconds away from completely blowing up.

“Fine, fine,” Finn conceded, hands placatingly in the air as he backed out of the room slowly. “Mom says dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” he told Kurt quietly before closing the door behind him and walking away.

Kurt sighed and ran a hand over his face, then slammed the textbook shut and fell back against the pillows on his bed with a groan.  
He was being a dick, and he knew it.

Finn hadn’t done anything wrong and Kurt still felt the need to blow up at him for no reason. 

He really needed to start working on an attitude adjustment.

**

The next day at school, Kurt skipped lunch headed to the choir room to finish the rest of his homework from the night before in silence.

It wasn’t the first time Kurt sought out solace in the room. It was the one place in the entire planet other than his home that he felt completely safe and wanted. It was pretty much his home away from home.

All too soon, the bell rang and Kurt scowled, knowing it was only a matter of moments before the other members of New Directions began to pile in and he would never be able to finish his work.

“Hey Kurt!” Kurt looked up to see Mike and Tina walk into the classroom hand in hand, smiling at him. He smiled back despite his previous attitude, the bubbly happiness from the couple becoming infectious.

He high-fived Mike and kissed Tina’s cheek as they took their seats next to him.

“How was your summer, Kurt?” Tina asked as she subconsciously began to play with Mike’s fingers in her lap.

Kurt shrugged. “It was fine. Nothing too exciting really happened, to be honest.” He shrugged again, packing his books away as Santana, Brittany and Quinn all walked in. 

Brittany literally ran over to him, jumping into his lap and hugging him tightly. 

“H-hey Brit,” Kurt choked out, awkwardly hugging her back before she pulled away, going back to Santana’s side and linking their pinkies together. Santana nodded her head in greeting and Quinn leaned down to give him a hug as well, the three of them moving to sit on his other side.

Rachel, Mercedes, Artie, a blonde guy and… Lauren Zizes (and seriously, since when was she in Glee Club?) all walked in next, the girls going over to hug Kurt and Artie fist-bumping him before introducing him to Sam Evans, one of the new kids, just as Mr. Schue walked in.

“Hello, Kurt. Missed you yesterday.”

“Yeah uh, sorry Mr. Schue, wasn’t feeling well.”

Will nodded as he dropped his briefcase on the piano, walking over to the board to erase anything previously written on it.

“Where’s Fi—”

Kurt cut himself off when Finn walked in laughing with Puck and… someone else.

Finn glanced over and his smile widened, running over and grabbing Kurt’s arm, pulling him up and across the room.  
“Hey man, this is Kurt. Kurt, meet Blaine Anderson, the newest member of the New Directions!”

Kurt took in the boy in front of him, arm still locked in his brother’s vice grip.

Blaine wore jeans that were a bit too long over scuffed up Chucks and a dark blue t-shirt underneath a light blue plaid shirt.

Kurt usually disliked plaid, cursing the name of the person who brought it ‘back’ and made it popular, but for Blaine… it worked.

He had short curly hair that flew everywhere and eyes that… whoa, eyes that were fucking beautiful. Kurt didn’t even know what color to call eyes that weren’t quite green but weren’t quite brown either. Hazel didn’t seem like an appropriate enough title.

“Kurt?”

Kurt shook his head slightly, shaking himself out of his thoughts to see Blaine’s hand held out awkwardly between them.

“Crap, yeah, sorry. H-Hi Blaine,” Kurt mumbled out, reaching out to shake Blaine’s hand.

Kurt gasped quietly the second their fingers touched, electricity pinging out through the hand shake, spreading warm and powerful over his body.

He looked up to see the same shocked expression on the other boy’s face, Blaine’s eyes locked on the hands between them, no longer shaking in greeting but instead holding onto one another.

Kurt felt like they were standing there forever, holding hands as fire and lightening coursed its way through his system, but all too soon someone was clearing their throat and the boys broke apart, Blaine jumping back slightly.

“Uh, nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, same,” Kurt breathed out as the four of them made their way to the seats. Blaine ended up sitting in front of Kurt, in between Artie and Sam, and Kurt found himself staring at the back of Blaine’s curly head for most of the period, tuning out most of Mr. Schue’s directions.

**

The more Kurt thought about what he felt when he shook Blaine Anderson’s hand, the crazier he felt.

It was just static electricity. That was the zap you felt, dumbass, he chided himself through all of Glee Club.

After Glee, Kurt hurried home, wanting to finish his homework and get a start on dinner before his dad got home.

Burt Hummel’s health hadn’t been all that great recently, and Kurt had decided to take it upon himself to ensure his dad stayed healthy.

Carole was great and all, and she made Burt really happy, but she was used to cooking for a teenaged boy who could eat his weight in burgers on a daily basis, not for a man with high blood pressure and a teen who treated calorie-counted like a job.

He got through his chemistry homework fairly quickly, and his French assignments had been a breeze, so all too soon Kurt was changing into a more comfortable outfit, something that he didn’t care too much about if it were to get stained from cooking, and headed down out of his room.

Kurt descended the stairs towards the kitchen humming to himself when his eyesight blurred and the world around him tilted a bit, making him lose his balance for a moment. 

He stumbled over a stair and his hands flailed out, grabbing the banister before he could fall face-first down the rest of the steps.

“Whoa,” he mumbled shakily, hands still wrapped tight around the banister as he closed his eyes, breathing in slow and deep.

“Okay,” he said again, blinking open his eyes and looking down at the stairs, walking carefully down the remaining six steps and turning towards the kitchen.

That was weird, Kurt thought to himself as he moved to gather together the ingredients needing to make pasta and salad, trying to ignore the way his head was beginning to lightly throb, the tell-tale signs of an impending headache.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but soon Burt was walking through the doorway and walking towards him.

“Hey kiddo…you okay?” Burt asked as he came over, squeezing Kurt’s shoulder gently.

“Hmm? Oh, uh yeah, fine, dad,” Kurt said quietly as he stirred the pasta in the pot methodically with his right hand, his left gently massaging his temple.

“Ya sure? I can take over cooking if you’re not feeling well.”

Kurt shook his head in response (and yeah, okay, bad idea), dropping his left hand from his head.

“Seriously dad, I’m good. Just a little headache. I’ll pop a few Advils once this is done.”

Burt said nothing, just stared at his son, trying to read his face. But Kurt was used to it, knowing how to school his features just perfectly for his father’s benefit.

Burt shrugged to himself before moving away, heading towards the stairs “If you say so, kid. I’m gonna go upstairs to change. Carole should be home soon. Finn’s at Puckerman’s house with some of the guys, so it’s just us tonight.”

Kurt bit the inside of his cheek hard, turning his back to his father and looking back at the stove.

Kurt didn’t know why it still hurt so much, after all this time.

He just wasn’t like them.

He didn’t like spending hours on end killing Nazi Zombies and talking about boobs.

He didn’t like watching sports and rough housing and just generally acting like an idiot.

He just didn’t like it. 

But that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt to not even be invited at all. To not even know about it when even his dad did.

The Glee guys, they were supposed to be his friends. They were all supposed to be a family (and now Finn technically was his family) and yet they didn’t even bother to see if Kurt wanted to join them.

He glared down at the stove as tears began blurring his vision, making Kurt angrily wipe them away.

Fine, whatever, he didn’t need to hang out with the rest of them. 

He didn’t need them at all.

**

It was 11:30 at night when Finn finally walked through the door and trudged up the steps.

“Carole said to see her before you go to bed,” Kurt called out from his room when Finn walked by, making him stop in the middle of the hallway and turn back, poking his head into Kurt’s room.

“What’d you say?” Finn asked, reaching over to flick on Kurt’s lights.

Kurt hissed and groaned at the sudden light that seared into skull, reaching over to smash a pillow over his head.  
“Jesus Finn, are you trying to kill me?!” Kurt yelled angrily through his pillow.

“Sorry dude,” Finn replied, shutting off the light again and opening the door more, the light from the hallway flooding into the darkened bedroom, “You okay?”

“M’fine,” Kurt answered tersely, voice still muffled by the pillow, “S’just a headache.”

Finn scrunched his face at his brother’s garbled words but shook his head. “Ya know, Blaine had a killer headache tonight too. Had to cut our COD playing-time short to drive him home because he was too out of it to do it himself. Maybe something’s goin’ around.”

“That’s great Finn, wha’ever. Just… go see your mom so she doesn’t ground your ass for breakin’ curfew,” Kurt mumbled out, wanting nothing more than to be left alone in the darkness and the silence.

At the mentions of ‘curfew’ and ‘grounding,' Finn’s eyes grew huge.

“Shit! Okay, yeah. Night, Kurt,” Finn called out, slamming the door behind him and making his way down the hall quickly.

Kurt winced as the door slammed shut, the sound echoing around his head and piercing his ear drums.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, with the intensity of his migraine.

It was all-consuming and Kurt just wanted it to stop. 

He had taken four Advil’s and they barely did anything. 

Kurt contemplated downing the whole bottle, anything for relief, but it wasn’t about to risk OD’ing and needing to get his stomach pumped in the middle of the night. 

Just fucking suck it up. The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner it’ll probably go away.

**

Okay, his subconscious lied.

It didn’t go away.

It intensified.

Kurt had managed to get a few hours of sleep and woke up with an intense pounding in his skull. Something so painful it brought him to tears just to move.

But he had to go to school. He couldn’t worry his father. He couldn’t risk Burt’s health.

Kurt grabbed the Advil bottle from his nightstand and took two more before dropping the pill bottle into his school bag.

He walked to his closet and hardly spent any time picking out an outfit, mind too busy concentrating on working through his migraine to put any real thought into his clothes.

He managed to eat a piece of toast and wheedle a ride to school from Finn, making up a story about lack of sleep and fear of falling asleep at the wheel (which, to be honest, was actually completely true).

The closer they got to school, the more Kurt could actually concentrate, thank God. His head was still pounding, but he could actually think beyond the incessant painpainpain that had been thrumming through his thoughts all night.

“You good dude?” Finn suddenly asked, making Kurt jump a bit in his seat.

“Huh?” Kurt asked, squinting over at his brother. He then realized they were already in McKinley’s parking lot and Finn was halfway out of the car.

“S-sorry, must’ve dozed off,” Kurt lied easily, grabbing his bag and making his way out of the car.

“Yup. Anyways, see ya later,” Finn called, walking down the hallway towards his locker.

Kurt sluggishly headed towards his own locker, ignoring the usual remarks that were thrown at him as he passed a small group of hockey players.

He gathered his things and headed to his first period ten minutes early, smiling to his teacher weakly before dropping into his seat and laying his head on his arms over the desk.

“Are you feeling well, Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt inwardly groaned before lifting his head slowly. “Yes ma’am, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

She nodded before returning her gaze back to the stack of papers in front of her on the desk.

“Very well. Just no nodding off during my class, Kurt, understood?”

“Yes,” Kurt replied before dropping his head back down.

**

The rest of the day went by much the same.

Kurt would get to his classes and lay his head down, only moving when being spoken to or when the bell rang.  
Soon enough, last period was over and it was time for Glee.

Kurt really didn’t feel like going, wanting nothing more than to go home and burrow under the darkness of his pillows, but then he remembered he came to school with Finn. Who had the car keys. And would get his ass verbally handed to him by Rachel if he skipped.

He hung his head and headed over to the choir room.

Again, Kurt was first to class, so he dropped his bag and sat in the back, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Hey.” 

Kurt’s head shot back up to see Blaine walk in, shoulders slumped and bag dragging on the floor behind him, the strap dangling from the boy’s fingers.

“Hey,” Kurt replied before tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

He heard Blaine move around the room and peeking his eye open for a moment to see Blaine sit next to him, laying his head back and mirroring Kurt’s position.

“I’ve had a raging headache all damn day. All damn night too. I was with the guys last night when it hit. I wasn’t about to come in today, but well…it wouldn’t look good as the new kid to be skipping classes the first week.” Blaine explained to him, voice quiet as it wrapped itself around Kurt’s senses.

“Mmm,” Kurt agreed, eyes still closed.

“But it’s… it’s weird. I kinda feel a bit better now.”

“Me too,” Kurt answered without thinking, eyes shooting open once he realized what he said.

He looked over to see Blaine’s head tilted towards him, eyes searching his.

“What do you mean, ‘me too?' Ya mean I wasn’t alone with the headache from hell?” Blaine asked teasingly.

Kurt risked shaking his head, relief sweeping through him when the move was met with a dull throb instead of a pounding.

“I pretty much couldn’t sleep because of it. I’ve felt like crap all day. But… I dunno, now I feel… better, I guess,” Kurt explained as best he could.

“Maybe it’s the room. Maybe it’s being in here, in Glee, knowing that the people in here actually care about you, regardless of wha--who you are.” Blaine replied, tone light and honest as he turned his head back forward, eyelids slipping shut once more.

“Yeah…yeah, maybe.” Kurt answered back quietly, using the moment to look at the boy next to him, really take in as much of Blaine as he could.

He noticed the way the corner of Blaine’s mouth twitched, but said nothing of it as the rest of the New Directions began to pile into the room.

Mr. Schuester got right down to work the moment everyone sat down.

“Alright guys, so, I figured we’d do something small to start off the year. Nothing major, just simple duets.”

There was a murmur throughout the group as people looked across the room at each other, nodding and smiling.

“But,” Mr. Schue continued, “here’s the catch. I’m picking the duet partners this time. And I don’t want a single complaint. We’re family, guys; this shouldn’t be something to fight over.”

Kurt looked around to see some people bitchfacing at Will, but for the most part, they all agreed.

“Okay, so first up. Rachel, you’re with Sam.” Sam looked over to Rachel and smiled who actually, thank the lord, kept her mouth shut and smiled back, almost looking pleased with her partner.

“Finn, you’re with Tina. Quinn, with Artie.”

Mr. Schue paced back and forth in front of them, looking at them all as he tapped his finger against his lips, thinking quietly.

“Santana, you’re with Lauren.”

Both girls eyed each other up and down, but knew better than to start anything. Mr. Schue took their silence as a cue to continue.

“Brittany, you’re with Puck. Mike, with Mercedes and finally, Kurt, you’re with Blaine.”

Kurt looked over at the boy next to him and saw him grinning. Kurt couldn’t help but grin back, Blaine’s smile infectious.

“And here’s the other thing. You guys all have to pick a song that isn’t already a duet. So a song from a solo artist, or a band, as long as it’s predominately one singer. I want you guys to pick a song apart and make it work for two people. You have all of next week to work on it and perform it the week after that.” He clapped his hands and nodded towards the door, “Well, that’s it. I really want you guys to work together and make this great, so I’m giving you all the rest of the period to go out on your own and talk it all over.”

Mumbles and chairs scraping against linoleum quickly filled the room as everyone walked over to their partners to talk about their assignments.

“So,” Blaine started, leaning down to grab his bag off the floor, throwing a strap over his shoulder.

“So,” Kurt replied lightly, doing the same and picking up his bag, dusting it off lightly.

“I was thinkin’, it’s a bit too early to head home, so wanna go somewhere else? Get coffee or something while we go through our iPods and make a song list?”

Kurt looked Blaine over, noting his hopeful expression, the eagerness in his eyes.

“I-I mean, I know you weren’t feeling well before, so it’s totally cool if you just wanna start working tomorrow or whatever, I just thought—”

“Blaine.”

“Yeah?”

“Coffee sounds great.”

Kurt watched the relief spread through Blaine’s face as they both stood and started towards the door.

“Hey, Kurt!”

Kurt and Blaine both turned as Finn walked towards them with Tina.

“Tina’s coming over to think of songs and whatnot. You and Blaine coming too?”

Kurt shook his head and then nodded towards Blaine, “Nah, Blaine and I are going to get coffee while we think of songs.”

“Yeah, I’ll take Kurt home, no worries,” Blaine added, nodding.

“I’ll just see you at home. Tell dad for me?” Kurt asked Finn, adjusting the strap over his shoulder.

“Yeah sure. Later dudes.”

Kurt and Blaine both waved goodbye to Finn and Tina as they walked down the opposite end of the hallway, needing to go to Tina’s locker to pick up a few textbooks.

“Finn said ‘see you at home.’ Is he your brother?”

Kurt just nodded as he followed Blaine out of the school and into the parking lot, deciding to spare him the gory details of Kurt’s epic crush on Finn all of the previous year and how setting up their parents was all part of his plan to win Finn’s heart.

**

Since Blaine was new to Lima, Kurt had taken it upon himself to direct Blaine to The Lima Bean, pretty much the only good place to get coffee in the whole town.

They got their drinks quickly and settled into a table in a back corner, both of them taking out their iPods and notebooks.

“So, does Mr. Schuester have like, certain requirements or restrictions on song choices?” Blaine asked as he swirled sugar into his drink, glancing up at Kurt as he stuck the stirrer into his mouth for a moment to clean it off.

Kurt found himself staring at the other boy’s lips as he sucked the excess coffee off of the drink stirrer before snapping out of it and looking Blaine in the eye.

“Umm, n-no, not really. He’s pretty lenient with song choices. As long as it has something to do with the week’s assignment, he’s cool with it.”

“Cool.” Blaine said with a laugh as he popped the top back onto his cup and took a small sip of his drink, “So any ideas?”

Kurt shrugged as he picked at the cardboard cozy around his cup. “Well, we’ve never heard each other sing, and we probably have totally different tastes in music, so this could take a while.”

Blaine leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow, smirking across the table at Kurt. “How are you so sure we have different tastes in music? For all you know, our iPods could be the exact same.”

Kurt gave him an incredulous look before scoffing, “Please. I know your type. You’re totally one of those brooding singer-songwriter guys. I bet your iPod is nothing but John Mayer, Death Cab and Coldplay.”

Blaine pouted (and okay, really, why was that cute?) but said nothing as he took another sip of his drink.  
“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Shut up,” Blaine mumbled, grabbing his iPod and thumbing through it.

Kurt smiled to himself as he began to do the same.

“I have an idea,” Blaine said suddenly before reaching out and snagging Kurt’s iPod out of his hand.

“Hey!”

“Shh, this is perfect. Here,” Blaine said, sliding his own iPod across the table and in front of Kurt, “we’ll go through each other’s songs and pick the ones we like. Say… top ten? Then we’ll have twenty songs and we can narrow it down from there.”

“B-but…”

“Oh come on, we’re partners, don’t get all iPod-shy on me, Kurt! What’s the worst you can have? The Spice Girls?”  
Kurt mumbled under his breath but then huffed out a sigh, grabbing the bright purple iPod from the table and turning it on.

“I knew it,” he said the second the screen came to life, a Coldplay song on pause. Kurt turned the screen towards Blaine with a satisfied grin before leaning back into his chair and getting comfortable, putting the iPod on Artists and settling in to go through the other boy’s music.

They spent the next hour scrolling through hundreds of songs, commenting every now and then just to tease the other.

“‘The Best of ABBA,’ Kurt, really?”

“Shut up, they’re fantastic and you know it. Don’t even try and pretend like you don’t know every single word to Mamma Mia.”

Blaine just smiled and shrugged.

And then a while after that, “Britney, Christina, Katy. Wow, you really like your bubblegum pop, huh Blaine?”

Blaine had the decency to blush before rolling his eyes. “Look, it’s not about the actual songs as it is about the lyrics. They’re really good!” Blaine shot back, trying to defend his music.

“Yeah, sure, because using animals and candy as euphemisms for sex is truly lyrical prowess.”

It was almost 8PM when they both finally had lists of ten songs each. Some, surprisingly enough, were duplicates.

They went through the lists, crossing off songs they knew either wouldn’t work. “Kurt, no offense, but I don’t think a Sweeney Todd number would go over too well with Mr. Schue.” Or they just wouldn’t do, “I’m not singing a Snow Patrol song, Blaine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Soon they had a list of about seven songs and they were talking and were talking about how amazing The Beatles were when Blaine’s phone buzzed.

“Shit,” he said to himself when he looked down and saw it was 8:45 at night.

“Everything okay?” Kurt asked, finishing off his second cup of coffee.

“Y-yeah, well… no. Just, I had a curfew of 8:30 and my mom wants to know where I am.”

Kurt nodded, helping Blaine clean up the papers scattered on the table, “I understand. I can walk home, or have my dad get me, it’s no pro—”

“No.”

Kurt looked up from where he was putting his things in his bag, his eyes widening slightly.

“I’m taking you home, Kurt. I brought you here, and I told Finn I’d take you home, so I am.”

“Are you sure? Really, Blaine, it’s fine, I don’t want you to get in trouble for me…”

Blaine rolled his eyes and he grabbed his two empty cups and threw them out, coming back and doing the same with Kurt’s before he had the chance to.

“I’m sure, Kurt. I’m already in trouble anyways. I might as well make it worth it.”

Kurt just rolled his eyes and smiled exasperatedly as he followed Blaine out to his car.

All too soon they were pulling up to the front of Kurt’s house and he was moving to unbuckle his seatbelt, glancing up every few seconds to stare at Blaine.

It was weird. Kurt had only known Blaine for a day but it still felt… wrong to leave his side. They exchanged phone numbers back at the coffee shop, Blaine even took a dorky picture of himself with Kurt’s phone, but to Kurt, it still didn’t feel like it was enough.

“Hey Kurt?”

Kurt looked up fully as he slid the seatbelt over his chest. “Yeah, Blaine?”

Blaine didn’t say anything, his hand hovering in between them for a moment before he dropped it onto the gear shift and looked at the other boy, “I’m just glad Mr. Schue made us partners. I can’t wait to sing with you,” Blaine told him, smiling warmly.

Kurt returned the smile easily. "Yeah, me too. Night, Blaine,” Kurt told him as he got out of the car and walked quickly up the steps.

Blaine didn’t move, waiting until Kurt was safely inside.

“Night, Kurt,” Blaine said aloud quietly before driving off.


	25. Capítulo 2

The boys had their first two periods together, English, chemistry, and they were now going to history. Blaine was glad to not only have someone to show him around, but also someone to sit with. A friend.

Kurt was edgy when they walked into their history class, his eyes darting around the room quickly before making a beeline to two seats towards the back of the class. Blaine followed wordlessly, wondering why Kurt had chosen to sit as far back as possible when in the last two classes, he had opted to sit up front.

Kurt sat in the corner seat and Blaine followed suit, sitting next to him and dropping his bag on his desk.

“You okay?” He asked as more students began coming into the classroom.

“I um, yeah. I just wanted to sit in the back, that’s all,” Kurt replied, giving him a small smile that Blaine didn’t believe for a second.

They had only known each other for a couple of days, but Blaine already found himself caring a lot for the other boy.

A lot more than he was willing to admit.

And it scared him.

Blaine was still looking at Kurt when the final few students walked in behind the teacher, and he saw Kurt go rigid in his seat.

Blaine scrunched his face in confusion before looking up towards the front of the class and watched as three big guys in lettermen jackets walked to their seats, laughing and joking with each other.

He glanced back at Kurt and saw his eyes following the jocks. His face was blank but his eyes, his eyes showed fear.

Soon, Blaine thought to himself. Hopefully soon he’ll trust me enough to let me in.

**

When it was time for Kurt to head to French and for Blaine to head to home ec, both boys found themselves standing in the middle of the hallway, awkwardly shuffling in their spots.

“Alright, well, you just go to the second floor and the classroom should be the fifth door on the left. I have to go to my locker before lunch, so I’ll just meet up with you in the cafeteria. We all sit together, the Glee kids, so just spot one of them and you’ll be good.”

Blaine nodded, wanting to say something more, do anything to keep Kurt around longer, but then Kurt was waving and heading off down the hall and disappearing into the sea of students.

**

Home economics had been weird for Blaine. 

The past week, every class he had been in, he kept his head down and focused on taking notes.

But now? Now he was looking. 

He watched as girls twirled their hair and gossiped with each other, constantly on their phones and giggling.

He watched as guys jokingly threw insults at each other and would randomly break out into arm wrestling competitions.

He watched as two of the jocks from his History class laughed at each other, fist bumping and throwing the occasional paper ball at kids in the room.

“Azimio, Dave, knock it off,” a man, presumably the teacher, barked as he walked into the classroom, picking up a stray paper ball from the floor and throwing it out.

Well, at least now I can put names to the faces, Blaine mused as the teacher began writing on the board, telling them what they would be doing for the next few days.

He really was trying to pay attention to the teacher, but his headache was beginning to come back again, a steady thrumming just above his right eyebrow.

He began rubbing small circles into his forehead, sitting on his stool and leaning on his hand against the desk, sighing quietly.

Once class was over, Blaine quietly headed out of the classroom, wanting to get away from the cacophonous laughter in the room. One of the jocks (Azimio, his mind supplied) bumped into him but kept walking, completely unfazed.

Blaine readjusted the strap over his shoulder and headed down to the lunchroom, hoping it wouldn’t be too difficult to spot one of the Glee kids.

He lucked out when he saw Tina walking ahead of him and he sped up, catching up to her just as she was entering the cafeteria.

“Oh, hey Blaine, how’s your day been?” She asked, smiling, as she walked towards a table where Blaine could already see Finn, Artie, and Mike sitting.

“Fine,” he replied, reaching up to once again rub at his temple.

“You okay?” She asked, concerned, as they neared the table. She took a seat next to Mike and kissed his cheek.

“Yeah, just a bit of a headache, I’m good,” he told her, sitting next to Artie and dropping his bag in the seat next to him, hoping it would be enough to keep someone else from sitting there long enough for Kurt to arrive.

As the rest of the New Directions began piling onto the table, the noise level got steadily louder, but Blaine just bit the inside of his cheek and continuously glanced at the doors, getting more nervous as the minutes ticked by.

Blaine was brought out of his thoughts by a french fry smacking him in the nose and Puck grinning wickedly.

“Snap out of it, lover boy, he’ll be here soon.”

He rolled his eyes and picked up the fry that landed on his tray, eating it and trying to get into the conversations of the table without having his eyes stray to the door every fifteen seconds.

Blaine almost groaned in relief as the throbbing in his head had finally begun to recede and a few seconds later he heard the table around him erupt into a chorus of greetings. He looked up to see Kurt walking towards the table.

“Hey guys, sorry took so long. I had to drop something off for one of my classes,” he told them all, smiling easy.

Blaine grabbed his bag and dropped it behind his chair like everyone else, grinning at Kurt when the other boy smiled back.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Blaine replied, the smile still on his face, mood significantly better than it was two minutes ago.

He heard a few girls "aww" around the table, but he didn’t pay them any mind, opting instead to look back down and finish his lunch.

Lunch period ended ten minutes later and everyone stood, saying quick goodbyes and heading to their classes.

Sam clapped Kurt on the shoulder as he was walking by and Blaine stood stunned as Kurt flinched and hissed in pain, his body seeming to curl in on itself, trying to get away from anything that could potentially cause pain.

“Are you alright?” Blaine asked, concern lacing itself into his words.

Kurt jumped before nodding quickly, grabbing his bag and holding it to his chest instead of slinging it over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Totally great. Come on, we gotta get to calculus.”

Once again, Blaine knew something was off. And this time it worried him. 

Since Kurt had gotten to the table Blaine had a nagging feeling that something had happened, something bad. No way in hell was he believing Kurt’s story about needing to drop off some papers, but like the last time, Blaine wasn’t going to push it.

**

Once school and Glee were over, Kurt and Blaine decided to stay behind in the choir room to work on their assignment. 

They had narrowed their song choices to three and they planned to sing them all to see what fit best with their voices.  
Before he could take out his iPod Kurt stopped him, his hand resting on Blaine’s over his backpack.

The same feelings from the first day they met coursed through Blaine again. Feelings of warmth and light and belonging. Feelings that told him this was right and this is where he was supposed to be.

“I just realized,” Kurt said, slowly pulling his hand away and fidgeting with it in his lap, “that I’ve never heard you sing. I wasn’t in Glee the day you auditioned. So…” he trailed off, not knowing how to ask for what he wanted.

“Do you want me to sing to you, Kurt?” For. He meant to say for you not to you, but he did and he couldn’t take it back.

Kurt bit his lip before nodding, a small smile forming on his lips.

Blaine huffed out a laugh before glancing around the room, his eyes landing in the corner where the instruments were.

He flung himself out of his seat and went over to the instruments, picking up a guitar and grabbing one of the nearby stools, dragging it over and placing it in front of Kurt, sitting down.

Blaine strummed on the strings for a few moments, tuning the guitar effortlessly while playing a mindless tune before he began the melody for his song.

Come on skinny love just last the year  
Pour a little salt we were never here  
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my  
Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

Kurt knew the song. He knew Blaine probably knew that he knew it as well since the other boy went through his iPod.

But still.

Hearing Blaine sing it was… incredible.

He knew Blaine could sing, he had to have been able to, obviously, since he was in Glee. But he didn’t expect his voice to be like this.

Blaine’s voice was low and melodic and calming. His voice wrapped around the lyrics and delivered them with such sincerity and heart that Kurt wanted to cry.

Kurt sat transfixed as Blaine continued singing. He had his eyes closed and was pouring his heart out into his performance, feeling the music and the lyrics as he played.

And I told you to be patient  
And I told you to be fine  
And I told you to be balanced  
And I told you to be kind  
And now all your love is wasted  
And then who the hell was I?  
And I'm breaking at the britches  
And at the end of all your lines

Who will love you?  
Who will fight?  
Who will fall far behind?

Blaine finished the song quietly, remnants of the cords still ringing in Kurt’s ears.

“So?” Blaine asked quietly, slipping the guitar strap over his head and looking at Kurt hopefully.

“I… you were… wow,” Kurt choked out, looking at Blaine like this was the first time he was really seeing him.

“That bad, huh?”

Kurt looked at him incredulously but then saw Blaine saw smiling, eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Yes, truly horrible. I can’t believe Schue landed me with you, Anderson.”

Blaine laughed as he set the guitar down on the ground before looking back at Kurt. “So… now that you know I’m capable of singing, you think we should pick a song?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow, eyes widening slightly. “What, you don’t want me to sing back for you?” He asked.

Blaine shrugged, folding his hands and dangling them between his legs. “I know you’re amazing, Kurt. You have to be to be in the New Directions, so I’m good,” he explained to Kurt matter-of-factly.

Kurt blushed and looked away, grabbing the paper with their songs from the seat next to him.

“Okay, fine. Let’s get to work.”

**

Once they had chosen a song, the remainder of their time was spent practicing it. They decided right away that it would be done acoustic, thinking that stripping their song down to that level would show Mr. Schuester how hard they worked on their assignment. 

They alternated between practicing in the choir room and the auditorium, working on getting their arrangement just perfect.

Kurt was beginning to hate how frequent his headaches were becoming, having to resort to carrying around the Advil bottle just to get through the day. But he always noticed that the pain in his skull seemed to lessen the closer he got to Blaine, the ache all but disappearing when they were together.

It was almost 8PM the following Friday when they were in the auditorium, finishing up their rehearsal.

“You think we should do it again to—”

Kurt rolled his eyes as he took a drink from his water bottle. “No. We got this Blaine, seriously.”

Blaine kept quiet, just staring at Kurt who stared back.

“Look, we’ll practice it again on Monday before Glee if it’ll make you feel better, but trust me, it’s in the bag.”

Blaine slowly nodded, pulling the guitar off and standing up from the stool, walking over with Kurt to their bags sitting at the corner of the stage.

“So, any plans for tonight?” Blaine asked, grabbing his own water bottle and taking a drink.

Kurt shook his head as he grabbed all of his things. “Nope. Probably just going to order pizza and watch TV with my dad.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Y-you can come over… if you want? My dad’s usually cool about having friend’s over,” Kurt suggested.

Blaine wanted to, he did. He really really did.

But then this phone started buzzing in his pocket and he sighed, not even bothering to check it.

“Aren’t you gonna answer that?” Kurt asked, nodding his head to his pocket, but Blaine shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“No, it-it’s my mom. I know it is. She probably needs my help with something, so… raincheck? On the whole going over to your place thing?” He asked hopefully, hoping with everything that this wouldn’t be the last time Kurt invited him over.

“Yeah sure, definitely.”

“Great… Okay, we should get going, I don’t want my mom to worry or… whatever.”

Kurt nodded and they walked out school into the almost-night.

**

If Kurt thought his headaches were bad, they were nothing compared to how he was feeling right now. 

Where his headaches only made his head hurt, the stomachache he was going through right now affected his whole body, pain thrumming through him with every pounding pulse of his heartbeat.

He couldn’t move. Every movement was like jabbing a knife into a wound. 

It was horrible.

“Hey bud, you almost ready to—” Burt Hummel had come into his son’s room to figure out what was taking him so long to get dressed when he found Kurt lying in the middle of his bed in the fetal position, body shaking and looking awful.

Burt walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, pushing the hair away from Kurt’s face as gently as he could, the strands damp between his fingers.

“Kurt?” He called quietly, resting his palm on his son’s forehead before moving it to his cheek, his neck. Kurt didn’t respond, he kept his eyes shut tight, his face scrunched together in pain.

“Are you… Do you wanna go to the hospital?”

That got a response, because Kurt’s eyes were suddenly wide open and staring up pleadingly at his father. As painful as his current situation was, Kurt refused to go to a hospital. He would never set foot in one again if he had any say so.

“N-no. No hospitals. It’s not that bad. T-trust me. I just… I just probably have f-food poisoning or… something,” Kurt said hurriedly through clenched teeth.

“I don’t have to go, kid. I can stay home and take care of you if you—”

“No. Dad, y-you and Carole go. I’ll be fine. I-I have my phone if I need you.”

Burt hesitated as he searched his son’s face, weighing his options.

“Dad, I’m serious. Just… Just go, have a good time, okay?”

Burt sighed but then nodded, squeezing Kurt’s neck gently before leaning down and kissing his temple. “Call if you need anything… I’ll have my phone on me. Carole too. I’m serious, Kurt, okay?”

Kurt agreed with a slight nod of his head, watching as Burt moved around the room to close the curtains, darkening the room a bit.

“That better?”

Kurt nodded again, a bit of relief sweeping through him.

“Love you, kid. Feel better.”

“Thanks, Dad. Love you too,” he mumbled out as Burt mostly closed the door, leaving it open a crack.

Kurt had finally found a position to lie in for the next hour while moaning in pain when his phone vibrated. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He groaned as he rolled over, hand shooting out towards his nightstand and groping around until he found his phone.

He winced at the bright light of the screen but then saw it was a text from Blaine. Again, there weren’t any words, just a frowny face with an exclamation point.

Kurt was tempted to just shut his phone off and wallow in self-pity.

Instead he clicked on Blaine’s name and brought the phone up to his ear as it rang, being picked up on the second ring.

“I feel like I’m dying,” was Blaine’s way of greeting him, ending in a groan.

“Yeah well, misery loves company, right?” Kurt shot back, breathing in deeply, grateful that it didn’t hurt too badly this time.

Blaine made a confused noise over the line, not understanding what Kurt meant.

“I’ve been feeling horrible since I woke up. It’s like… like food poisoning but ten times worse. It hurts to breathe. Or well… i-it did?” Kurt explained, ending in a question when he realized that he was breathing just fine right now, and his category five-stomachache had dropped down to a four, maybe even a three.

Huh.

“That’s… that’s a pretty accurate description of how I’m feelin’ right now,” Blaine mumbled into phone.

Kurt heard the rustle of fabric and a quiet groan before he heard Blaine sighing out a breath into the phone.

“I’m actually kinda… feeling a bit better now. Maybe that medicine I took before is finally starting to kick in,” Blaine said quietly. Kurt wondered if maybe he was just talking to himself aloud.

“You still there?”

“Mhm. Just… tired, I didn’t really sleep much. My stomach started hurting pretty early this morning.”

Blaine made a sound in agreement before speaking again. “I… I actually wanted to, well today, I was hoping to maybe… see you? Just… hang out, or whatever? We can invite everyone else, see if they wanna do something?”  
Kurt felt his heart begin to beat a bit faster, his breaths coming out a bit quicker.

He had never really been invited anywhere before.

Well, sure, he had gone out with the other Glee kids, but that was more a formality than anything. And okay, he hung out with the girls a lot, but he had never been invited anywhere with one of the guys.

This was new.

And it was great.

Kurt suddenly didn’t care about his stomachache or his headaches or whatever else his body was planning on putting him through.

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to spend time with this boy that made him laugh and smile and knew exactly what kind of music he listened to and didn’t care.

“I… yes. Yeah, sure. That would be great, Blaine.”

“Okay, um… Movies, then? Later? Puck was talking about seeing that new horror movie that came out yesterday.”  
Kurt nodded but then realized he was still on the phone.

“You’re nodding, aren’t you?” the voice over the line teased.

“Shut up and go invite everyone. I’ll see you later.”

Kurt heard Blaine laughing on the other end as he hung up and he couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head a little over how absurd everything was.

**

So, his stomachache came back, and this time it brought along its friend queasiness, which was just awesome.

But Kurt had already told his parents he was going out and Finn already told Kurt he would drive them to the theater, so he was pretty shit out of luck.

Maybe it’ll all miraculously go away again once I’m around everyone… like last time, he thought to himself as he laced up his boots, hearing Finn give a five minute warning yell from downstairs.

His phone vibrated next to him and looked over, seeing it was again, from Blaine.

this movie better be worth it

Kurt huffed out a laugh as he responded

lol why?

bc I feel like crap again

Kurt nodded at his phone in sympathy, taking in a deep breath as he felt his stomach lurch.

same but I alrdy said i'd go. Cant back out now

sigh. You suck. You should buy me candy or w/e to make it up to me.

only if you buy the soda Kurt typed out quickly as Finn called for him again. 

deal. Cya ina bit.

**

Kurt was grateful that Finn offered to drive because that way, he was able to spend the entire car ride tucked into his seat, leaning heavily against the door as he wrapped his arms around himself.

“Dude, if you’re feelin’ like shit still, why didn’t you just stay home?” 

Blaine, his mind instantly answered, but Kurt just rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Finn, it was pretty much my idea to go in the first place. It would be rude of me to back out last minute.”

“Yeah, well, it would also be rude of you to puke all over someone, so watch out for that.”

“Asshole,” Kurt mumbled, glaring at his brother.

“Thanks. I try.”

He sighed as he looked out the window, willing his stomach to just settle down so he could spend the night with his friends without getting sick because that would seriously blow.

Pun intended.

They were about three blocks from the theater when his prayers were answered and his stomach started to settle down.

By the time they got to the parking lot, Kurt was sitting straighter in his seat, his eyes scanning the people standing around outside.

“If your faking sick was just an excuse to get me to drive you, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Kurt rolled his eyes as Finn parked the car, tearing his eyes away from the window and towards his brother. “I wasn’t faking anything and you offered to drive, dumbass.” 

Finn sighed as he opened his door, muttering a “Whatever,” under his breath.

Kurt followed suit, but instead of trailing Finn to the entrance of the theater, he started walking towards the rows of cars.

“Dude, where’re—”

Kurt waved Finn off, calling out that he’d meet him inside.

He began walking towards the back of the parking lot, not knowing why, his only excuse was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was going the right way.

Soon enough he spotted it, the dark blue paint of Blaine’s car. The engine was still running and Blaine was resting with his head back against his seat. His eyes were closed.

Kurt walked up to the driver-side window and knocked on the glass, making Blaine jump and smack his hand into the steering wheel, eliciting a bitten-off curse.

“Kurt!” he called, but Kurt only laughed and pointed at the closed window between them.

Blaine shook his head before wrenching the keys out of the ignition and opening the door.

“Uh… hi,” He said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Hi Blaine,” Kurt answered, still smiling. “You feeling any better?” He asked after a beat.

“Um, not re… actually, yeah, I uh, I kinda am now. I-it’s weird. I’ve been feeling like total shit but now it’s like it’s—”  
“Disappeared,” Kurt finished for him.

“Yeah. Exactly,” Blaine breathed, smiling a bit in confusion.

They both stood there awkwardly for a moment before Blaine checked the time on his phone. “We better head in,” he told Kurt quietly, pocketing his phone and his keys before waving a hand. “After you?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow and smiling slightly.

Kurt grinning back and led the way into the theater.

**

The movie, in fact, hadn’t been worth the money. At all.

After the first forty-five minutes, Kurt and Blaine resorted to making up their own ridiculous scenarios for the movie, throwing Skittles at their friends every time someone attempted to shush them.

Afterwards, the whole group walked three blocks to a pizzeria, taking up the entire back half of the restaurant and needing to order six pizzas and four pitchers of soda.

“So,” Puck called out as he popped a garlic knot into his mouth, “I wanna know about the newbies. Why’d you come to McKinley, Sam?” He asked loudly across the table, making everyone turn and pay attention.

Sam blushed under everyone gaze but cleared his throat. “Well, I grew up in Toledo with my family. I have two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and we moved here to Lima for my dad’s new job. That’s about it,” he said shrugging as he reached over for his drink.

“Lame!” Puck yelled, taking a sip of his soda before looking around again. “Okay, next victim. Anderson, what’s your story?”

Blaine, who had been eating the crust from Kurt’s slice of pizza because “There’s only so many carbs I can take in one sitting,” froze when his name was called.

He heard the question, but it was like his mouth forgot how to speak. Suddenly, flashes of a few months ago shuttered through his thoughts, memories of screams and fists and tears flooding his mind. He was looking around with wide eyes before he felt a nudge at his shoulder, shaking him back into the present.

“—aine? Blaine, you okay?” Kurt was asking him, concern evident on his face.

Blaine blinked a few times, staring at Kurt before he looked around at the table, seeing everyone staring at him with equal amounts of shock and concern.

“Blaine?” Kurt asked again, quieter this time.

Blaine cleared his throat before speaking, “I-I’m fine. I just need to use the bathroom. I’ll… I’ll be right back,” he told them all before pushing his chair back and all but running away from the table.

It was quiet at the table for a moment before Quinn moved to smack Puck over the head. “Great job, Puckerman!” she said angrily. That was clearly the cue for the girls because the next thing Kurt knew, they were all moving to hit Puck anywhere they could reach and yell at him.

“I’ll be back,” Kurt told no one in particular before he stood and made his way over to the restrooms.

“Blaine?” Kurt called out when he walked in, bending over a bit to look for Blaine’s shoes behind a stall.

He heard a sniffle come from the handicapped stall at the end and Kurt walked over to it, knocking gently, “Blaine… d-do you wanna talk?”

He got no answer, but instead, a few seconds later, he heard shuffling and felt the lock on the door slide open.   
Kurt walked in slowly and frowned at what he saw.

Blaine’s eyes were red and puffy, tear streaks running down his face and his hair was ten times messier than usual, like Blaine had been running his hands through it too much or pulling at it.

They had only been friends for about two weeks, but Kurt didn’t care. He shut the lock behind him before closing the distance and throwing his arms around Blaine’s neck, hugging him tightly.

Blaine stood still under him, and for a moment Kurt thought maybe this was all a bad idea, but then Blaine’s arms were coming around him, and then he was clutching Kurt close, burying his face into Kurt’s neck.

Kurt didn’t know how long they stood there in a bathroom stall with their arms wrapped around each other, Blaine’s occasional hitched breath the only real sound in the room, but again, he didn’t care.

Having Blaine in his arms, protecting him and feeling protected all at the same time, felt right, felt natural. He felt like he was made to do this. To have this boy in his arms for the rest of his life.

Eventually Blaine pulled away, wiping his face with his hands and breathing in deeply. “I-I’m so sorry, I just—”

Kurt put his hand up and shook his head. “No, no apologies. Don’t worry about it. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Blaine shook his head. “Kurt, no, you don’t, you don’t have to sacrifice the rest of your night for me. I’ll get home just fine on my own.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Blaine, I’m not letting you walk back to your car by yourself and I’m not letting you drive home like this, okay?”

“But—”

“No. Shut up, stop arguing. The sooner you realize I’m always right, the better off you’ll be,” Kurt told him, smiling as he brought a hand up, squeezing Blaine’s arm gently.

Blaine gave him a small smile back before handing over his car keys to Kurt.

“What about everyone else?”

Kurt shook his head as he led the way out of the pizza place and onto the street. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll text Mercedes and tell her to let everyone know.”

Blaine just nodded, walking next to Kurt as they walked the three blocks back to the theater’s parking lot.

“Blaine?” Kurt spoke suddenly.

“Hmm?”

“Why’d… I mean, don’t feel pressured to answer or whatever. Just…” Kurt sighed, rubbing his forehead before glancing over to Blaine. “Just know I’m always here to talk, whenever you need it.”

Blaine looked over, his eyes searching Kurt’s before he nodded.

For the first time since Blaine could remember, he believed he finally found someone he really could talk to about anything.

**

Blaine lived on the outskirts of Lima, about a fifteen minute drive from Kurt’s house, so Kurt found the place easily. He turned off the ignition and turned in his seat to face Blaine, who, up until that moment, had his head up against the glass, staring at nothing outside of the window as his memories consumed him for the duration of the car ride.

“Thanks Kurt,” he mumbled quietly, rubbing his eye tiredly even though it was barely past 11PM. 

“Don’t mention it,” Kurt replied as he took the keys and they both got out of the car. It was only when they were walking up the front steps that Blaine stopped and spun quickly to face Kurt, making the other boy back up a step.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Kurt asked.

“Shit. What about you?!”

Kurt raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“How are you gonna get home?”

“I… oh.” He looked back to the car in the driveway, Blaine’s car, before looking back at the other boy, scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll just walk home or—”

Blaine shook his head, taking the keys out of Kurt’s hand. “No. No way am I letting you walk home, let me drive you back—”

“Blaine, the whole point of me taking you home was so you didn’t have to drive,” Kurt said exasperatedly.

“Well, at least ask Finn to get you then?”

“Finn’s spending the night at Puckerman’s house. I was gonna catch a ride with Mercedes or…” he trailed off awkwardly. Kurt was going to say you, but decided against it. “Look, it’s really not a big deal, Blaine, I just—”

“Stay here, then.”

Kurt looked up from the pavement he was staring at, shock crossing his features. “Come again?”

“S-Stay here for the night. My parents are out of town for the weekend, so… so you won’t have any awkwardness to deal with in the morning or whatever. We have a guest room you can stay in. I’ll drive you home tomorrow?”

Kurt watched as nervousness and hope warred in Blaine’s eyes. He realized he didn’t have any other option because Blaine was adamant about Kurt not walking and Kurt was just as resilient about Blaine driving for the night.

After a few moments, Kurt nodded. “I… okay. I-I’ll stay.”

The smile that broke out over Blaine’s face was worth the anxiety that was slowly beginning to creep its way into Kurt. 

**

“So here, these should fit you,” Blaine told Kurt, handing him a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

“I know you probably sleep in actual pajamas, but it’s all I have, and the pants are long on me so they should be fine and—”

“Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“These are fine. Thank you.”

Blaine nodded and showed Kurt where the bathroom was before going to his own room to change.

Blaine’s house was really nice from what Kurt saw. Everything white and clean and elegant. New.

Some moving boxes still in corners and some rooms still empty. It would take a while for the house to feel like a home.

Kurt, however, had a nagging feeling that this was about as close to feeling like a home as the house was ever going to get.

After texting his dad about the situation and changing, Kurt made his way to the guestroom. He was at the door when he stopped and looked farther down the hall to a door cracked open, light spilling through.

Blaine’s room.

Curiosity got the better of him and Kurt dropped his clothes on the guest bed before walking back out and moving down the hall, knocking on Blaine’s door before he realized what he was doing.

“You can come in, Kurt,” Blaine called.

Kurt did as Blaine said and walked in just as Blaine was pulling a long-sleeved shirt over his head. Kurt managed to get a peek at Blaine’s lower back but scrunched his eyes in confusion at a mark he saw that was paler than the rest of his skin.

Blaine turned around then and smiled. “Glad the clothes fit you,” He told Kurt, grinning as he sat on the side of his bed, patting the other with his hand in gesture for Kurt to come over.

After hesitating in the doorway for a moment, Kurt walked towards the bed and sat down cross-legged, folding his hands in his lap and picking at his thumbnail absentmindedly.

“It’s weird,” Blaine began. “I’ve felt like total crap all day and the second I’m with you… I feel better.”

Kurt looked up and over at him, keeping quiet for a moment before nodding his head. “I know what you mean. The past few days, I’ve felt terrible. But once I’d get to school, I’d feel a bit better. And when I’d be in class with you, I’d feel perfectly fine.”

They looked at each other curiously.

“This… is weird,” Blaine finished lamely.

“Agreed,” Kurt replied.

After that, they didn’t talk about it again for the rest of the night. It was just too strange for them to even attempt to wrap their heads around. So they didn’t, opting instead to talk about movies and television.

**

Kurt woke up warm. Really warm. It was nice. He wouldn’t mind waking up feeling like this every morning.

He was ready to snuggle deeper into the warmth and go back to sleep when everything decided to catch up with him.

His eyes flew open and he looked down to see dark blue material under him.

The material of the shirt Blaine wore to go to sleep.

Kurt then realized Blaine’s arm was wrapped around his waist and their legs were tangled together under the blanket.  
“Oh my god. Shitshitshit!” cursed quietly, causing Blaine to groan and tighten his grip on Kurt’s waist.

No. Nonono. Oh god, this cannot end well, Kurt yelled at himself in his mind, trying to untangle himself from Blaine.

His attempts were futile, however, when a few seconds later Blaine’s eyes blinked open, hazel staring into blue.

“Hi,” he mumbled sleepily.

That was enough to send Kurt into panic mode.

He ripped Blaine’s hand off of his waist and scrambled out of the bed, falling on the floor in his haste.

“Kurt, wha—” Blaine said groggily, trying to get his brain up to speed with what was going on.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here and I wasn’t gonna like, molest you in your sleep or whatever and just please don’t be mad at me, really, I’m sorry!”

“Kurt. Kurt? Kurt!” Blaine called out, putting a hand out to stop Kurt’s rambling for a moment. He yawned and scrubbed at his eye before reaching behind him for his glasses, putting them on and then looking back to Kurt.

“Care to tell me why you just had a total panic attack ten seconds after waking up?” Blaine asked quietly, his voice low and rough from sleep.

“Well I… I mean. I-I’m gay and so, I figured… I mean, for you, waking up with a gay guy in your bed, sleeping like, on you, should be reason enough for you to freak out. Which is why I freaked out, I guess. I beat you to the punch or, whatever.”

Kurt watched Blaine’s face as he took it all in, waiting for the inevitable blowout. 

What he didn’t expect was for Blaine to start laughing.

“You’re laughing? I’m having an existential gay crisis here and you’re laughing.”

Blaine shook his head before sitting up straighter in bed, smoothing out the side Kurt slept on and patting the bed again.

This time, however, Kurt didn’t move from his spot by the door.

“Kurt, I, um… I owe you a bit of an explanation,” Blaine said awkwardly, making Kurt look up and over at him.

“Please come sit down?” He asked quietly, and finally, Kurt listened, going over towards the bed.

Blaine moved so he was sitting facing Kurt and Kurt did the same, mirroring Blaine’s position, their knees almost brushing.

“I uh, at my um… at… at my old school… I was bullied. Bad.”

Kurt watched as emotions raced across Blaine’s face, ranging from fear to determination.

“That’s why you freaked last night. When Puck questioned you,” Kurt said quietly.

Blaine nodded, looking down at his bedspread.

“They didn’t like me or… or what I was. Am. They didn’t like what I am.”

Kurt scrunched his face in confusion and Blaine looked up, his eyes searching. He saw the moment recognition sparked in Kurt’s eyes, the other boy’s mouth falling open into a small 'o.'

“Oh,” Kurt breathed, looking at Blaine as if he were looking at him for the first time.

Blaine nodded. “I’m gay, Kurt. And they… they didn’t like that.”

“At first it was little things, comments behind my back, whispers, taunts. Nothing major. But then then it all… escalated. Knocking things out of my arms, being tripped in the halls, notes in my locker, things thrown at me. It was just hell. And then last year… Last year my school had a Sadie Hawkins dance.”

Kurt noticed the little things while Blaine was speaking. He noticed the way Blaine’s brow furrowed, the way his hands couldn’t stay still, fingers fidgeting and picking at the blanket, his sleeve, the hem of his pants.

“There was another open gay kid in my school, Tyler. I asked him to the dance and he said yes.” 

Kurt also noticed the small hitches in Blaine’s breath, the way his eyes would dart around the room, the way his body was slowly hunching over, phantom pain making him go into protective-mode.

“Afterwards, when we were waiting for his dad to pick us up these three guys came out of nowhere and… they um, th-they beat the shit out of us.”

Kurt looked into Blaine’s eyes to see they were red-rimmed, tears pooling but not falling. Blaine’s fingers now gripped the blanket tightly in his grasp, knuckles turning white.

Blaine kept his eyes locked onto Kurt’s as he continued speaking, keeping him grounded. “They um, i-it was bad. I landed in the hospital for about a week, Tyler for a few days. When I got home, I refused to go back to school and had to have my parents bring me my work and take it back for me. I just… I couldn’t go back there, ya know? Even driving by the school made me… remember, and I hated it. I couldn’t stand it anymore, Kurt, and I was d-driving my parents crazy and so… so they packed us up and we moved here to Lima.”

“Oh Blaine…”

Blaine shook his head, looking down now, “It was… Sometimes I still have nightmares, ya know? And my parents… Well, m-my dad, I’m not saying he wanted me to get hurt or whatever, but he’s always been like, he’s pretty much the kind of guy that says, 'Well, if you’re gay, you’re bringing it upon yourself. Your life’s just gonna be miserable, sorry, but get used to it.’”

Kurt heard the hitch in Blaine’s voice again, the way his shoulders were shaking with ill-repression and he couldn’t take it anymore. Kurt was up on his knees and leaning over in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck and hugging him tightly.

It was like last night all over again, with Blaine clutching Kurt tightly to himself, but this time was different.

This time Blaine cried. Deep, heart-wrenching sobs ripping out of throat and wracking his entire body as he clung to Kurt firmly like a lifeline.

Kurt felt Blaine’s tears soaking through the material of his shirt and he just held Blaine closer, leaning down to whisper reassurances into the other boy’s ear as he fell apart in Kurt’s arms.

As Blaine’s cries slowly subsided, Kurt pulled away a bit, leaning down and bringing a hand around to remove Blaine’s glasses and using his other hand to wipe away the tear tracks.

Blaine looked up to see Kurt had been crying as well and that simply served to make his eyes well up again.

“I’m so sorry, Blaine,” Kurt whispered, cradling Blaine’s face in his hands gently, looking him in the eye.

Blaine looked back, knowing Kurt meant it completely, knowing Kurt actually cared about him even though they hadn’t know each other long.

It was nice to be cared for.

Blaine blinked slowly a few times, exhaustion beginning to suddenly make itself known now that he had cried his eyes out.

He found himself being pushed back gently until his back hit the mattress, his head on the pillow.

“Sleep,” Kurt told him quietly. “You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Blaine wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that no, he couldn’t sleep; he had to drive Kurt home and do all these other responsible things.

But his eyelids were already feeling heavier and Kurt was honest to god pulling the blanket over him, almost tucking him into bed.

“Be here when I wake up?” Blaine mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open long enough for Kurt to answer.  
“Yeah, I promise,” he heard whispered into his ear before feeling the slight pressure of Kurt’s lips against his cheek, filling Blaine with something soft and warm. Comforting.


	26. Cap 3

Blaine woke up a few hours later. Alone.

It was normal and he thought nothing of it until he remembered crying and Kurt.

He kicked the blankets off quickly and sprang out of bed, running down the hall.

“Kurt?” Blaine called, voice dying out when he entered the kitchen and saw Kurt there, standing at the stove and cooking.

“Oh. Hey, you’re up,” Kurt said, smiling, turning his head to face Blaine. He had changed back into his jeans from last night, but was still wearing Blaine’s old t-shirt.

He liked the site of the other boy wearing something of his more than he would care to admit.

“Feeling better?” Kurt asked as he turned back to the stove. Making pancakes, Blaine noted upon closer inspection.

“Yeah. Um… Thanks, Kurt.”

“For what?” He asked, taking the pan in his hand and flicking it, making the pancake flip in the air.

Impressive. “For, uh… Well, last night. And this morning too, I guess. I just… That’s not me, ya know? I don’t usually… I don’t let people see that side of me. I always try my hardest to bottle it all up, just keep a smile on my face and try to not let anyone see what’s really going on.”

“Then why did you let me? See what’s really going on, I mean,” Kurt asked as he slid the finished pancakes onto a plate, joining the other few Kurt had already made.

Blaine stared at him for a moment and Kurt stared back, both searching before Blaine spoke. “I-I guess… I trust you. A-And I mean, we’ve only known each other for a few weeks but… I feel like I can trust you more than anyone I’ve ever met. I feel like I can let my guard down around you. Is… Is that weird?”

Kurt shook his head before passing Blaine a plate and the both of them settling in at the table, “No, I actually… feel the same? I feel like I can tell you everything, Blaine and that’s… that’s kinda scary to me.” He confessed, looking down at his plate to avoid Blaine’s eyes.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Blaine said quietly, after a few moments of silence, making Kurt look up again, but both remaining silent after that.

After eating, Blaine got dressed (Kurt decided to keep Blaine’s shirt on since it was more comfortable, and Blaine agreed to let him borrow it) and both boys headed to the center of town to Kurt’s house.

Kurt lived about fifteen minutes away from Blaine, and Blaine vowed to himself to remember the directions to Kurt’s house.

“Thanks again Blaine. I uh, I had a good time at your place.”

Blaine nodded, watching as Kurt took off his seatbelt and opened his door. “Thanks to you too, for everything… I mean it.”

Kurt nodded back and they both smiled, agreeing to meet up the next morning by Kurt’s locker before classes.

“Bye, Blaine.”

“Bye, Kurt.”

Blaine stayed on the side of the street until Kurt was safely inside, smiling to himself when he saw the other boy glance behind him at Blaine’s car one more time before closing the door.

**

Once again, Kurt woke up in pain.

Part of him wanted to thrash and cry and scream at the pain while the other half wanted to just curl into a ball and sleep forever.

He did neither.

Instead he sat up with a long groan, arms automatically circling his stomach as he breathed slowly and willed himself the strength to get up and get dressed.

He could skip the day, he really could.

His dad would take one look at him and he could be sent right back to bed.

But today was the day of his and Blaine’s duet and more than anything, he really really didn’t want to let Blaine down.  
So he sucked it up and got ready.

He did accept the ride from Finn in the morning though when he oh so politely commented, once again, on how shitty Kurt was looking.

He kept his head down as he walked slowly down the hall to his locker, so Kurt didn’t see it coming until he was slammed harshly into the lockers a few rows away from his.

“Watch where you’re going next time, homo.”

Kurt looked up and turned his head, watching the three jocks walking down the hall as he brought his arm up to massage his left shoulder.

“Are you okay?!” Kurt jumped and snapped his head forward to see Blaine closing the short distance between them, concern and anger warring in his expression.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Morning.”

“Kurt, what was that?”

“Nothing. Just please drop it, Blaine,” Kurt said quietly, walking the short remaining distance to his locker.

“But Kurt—”

“I said drop it, Blaine.”

Blaine sighed and looked Kurt up and down before resting his hand on Kurt’s bicep. “I’m sorry.”

Kurt breathed out slowly before turning to face Blaine, smiling sadly, “Yeah, me too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Just… don’t worry about it, 'kay?”

Blaine nodded before running his hand over his face.

“You look tired,” Kurt commented as he finished switching out his books and closed his locker.

“Yeah well, I once again had a crappy night… And morning, and didn’t sleep much.”

Kurt nodded, knowing all too well how it felt to have a crappy morning, even though now he blessedly felt alright.

“You ready for today?” He asked, leaning against the row of lockers.

Blaine hesitated for a moment before nodding, making Kurt smile. “Don’t be nervous. It’s just the gang. And you’re incredible. They’ll love you.”

“Is our song… right, though? I mean, we totally changed the composition, and it’s originally a girl song and—”

“Blaine. You’re rambling.”

“Sorry.”

Kurt grinned just as the first bell went off. “Don’t worry. It’s gonna be great.”

Blaine smiled back and both boys headed to class.

**

Soon enough it was the end of the day and it was time for Glee.

Half of the groups had gone on Friday, so there were only three groups remaining for that day.

Rachel and Sam went up first last week, singing Chasing Pavements by Adele. It was the first time Kurt had heard Sam sing and he had to admit, the guy was good. He was glad they had gotten some serious talent this year.

After them were Finn and Tina, who sang First Time by Lifehouse with Finn playing the drums. Kurt had never really thought of putting their voices together, but they did sound great, Tina taking over the lower parts in the lyrics with Finn belting out the choruses.

Next up were Quinn and Artie, performing All About You by McFly. Quinn danced around Artie for most of it and they were both smiling and joking through the performance, making everyone grin by the end.

The last for the day were Santana and Lauren. Again, Kurt had never heard Lauren sing (to be honest, he didn’t even know she could sing) and he was most interested to see how their dynamics played out out of almost all the other groups.

They sang Syrup and Honey by Duffy and… Wow. Kurt was as gay as they came and even he could tell that Santana oozed sex. Everyone was also surprised at Lauren, Puck the most, who was unable to keep his eyes off her.

The only remaining groups were Puck and Brittany, Mike and Mercedes and Blaine and himself. Kurt was kind of upset that he had to go last, but then figured it would be best so he and Blaine could be perfect.

Brittany and Puck started as soon as everyone came in, singing Kiss With A Fist by Florence + the Machine. Brittany walked around Puck singing at him and giving him attitude and they both really got into it. It was a great way to start class.

Next up were Mercedes and Mike who decided to sing I Want You by Kelly Clarkson. Mercedes did the most of the singing, with Mike dancing and joining in in the choruses.

But soon enough they were finished and everyone was clapping and shit, they were next.

“Kurt, Blaine, you guys ready?” Mr. Schue asked from the corner.

Both boys nodded and stood, walking over to the side to grab two stools to sit on, Blaine grabbing a guitar as well.  
“Okay, well, this song is originally sung by a girl, but we stripped it and changed it and, well, um…”

“Hope you guys like it,” Kurt finished for him, glancing over and smiling slightly, nodding at Blaine to begin.  
Blaine nodded back and began strumming on the guitar lightly before starting to sing.

“You´re so hypnotizing,  
could you be the devil,  
could you be an angel?  
Your touch, magnetizing.  
Feels like we are floating,  
leaves my body glowing. 

They say be afraid,   
you´re not like the others,   
futuristic lover.  
Different DNA,  
they don´t understand you

Kurt looked up to his friends to see them moving gently to the beat, some of the girls mouthing along to the lyrics. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face when he started singing along, voice harmonizing with Blaine’s.

You´re from a whole other world,  
a different dimension.  
You open my eyes  
And I´m ready to go  
Lead me into the light.  
Kiss me, kiss me.  
Infect me with your love and  
fill me with your poison

Take me, take me.  
Wanna be a victim,  
ready for an abduction  
Boy, you´re an alien,  
your touch so foreign.  
It´s supernatural,  
extraterrestrial.

Blaine slowed down his strumming on the guitar a bit, alternating with humming along or harmonizing randomly with Kurt’s voice when it fit the lyrics. Kurt took the next few parts solo, hitting the high notes easily.

This is transcendental,  
on another level.  
Boy, you´re my lucky star.  
I wanna walk on your wavelength,  
and be there, when you vibrate.  
For you I´ll risk it all…all.

Both boys sang together again for the chorus, and Blaine’s eyes were closed. He was pouring his heart out into the song as he played the guitar hard, rocking with the motion on the stool.

They dragged the last line out, blowing out a breath of air before looking over at each other and grinning. The room burst out into applause, Mr. Schue walking over to clap them both on the back. “That was fantastic, guys. Really good work. I’m proud of you.”

Blaine smiled at their teacher before going to put the guitar back and sitting up on the risers with Kurt who was still smiling.

“So, that was pretty great,” Kurt said, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing over at the boy next to him.

“Great? Try fantastic! Kurt, you were amazing!”

Kurt rolled his eyes and didn’t respond, looking back over at a grinning Blaine when he knocked his shoulder into Kurt’s.

“Really though, it was so good. I really liked singing with you. I’ve never really… had that, ya know? I’ve always been stuck singing alone like, in the shower and now I have this… I have you.”

Kurt felt the heat rising in his face, thankful that Mr. Schuester had started talking so he didn’t have to respond to Blaine.

Kurt liked Blaine; that much was obvious to anyone and everyone.

But the idea that maybe, possibly Blaine could like him back? That had Kurt almost bouncing in his seat.

They still had so much they needed to learn about each other, but at that moment, Kurt didn’t care.

**

Kurt and Blaine had been hanging out with each other after school for weeks now. Doing absolutely nothing but reveling in each other’s company nonetheless.

It was like a drug, the way they both felt the all-encompassing need to be around each other. They knew it probably weirded some people out, the intensity of their friendship after such a short period of time, but to them it was normal and as easy as blinking.

Which is why Kurt was surprised that when Blaine got a text, his entire posture going rigid and leaving Kurt with a hurried goodbye as he ran to his car and sped out of the parking lot, leaving Kurt still standing on the curb.

Kurt worried about Blaine the entire walk home (Finn had already left, assuming Kurt would go with Blaine) and decided to call him the second he was done with his homework.

Or he would have, if the goddamned pain hadn’t started once again seeping into his bones, making even his teeth hurt.

Kurt slammed his French textbook shut, wincing at the loud noise before dragging himself up and over to his bed and plopping down on it with a groan as he adjusted his position, trying to find the least painful one as he dialed Blaine’s number.

Kurt frowned when it went to voicemail and called two more times before sighing and leaving a quick, “Hey it’s me… Call me back,” before hanging up and staring at the blank screen.

He thought of texting Blaine, but quickly nixed the idea, not wanting to come off as desperate.

Instead he sat on his bed, clutching at his stomach, willing for either the phone to ring or the pain to stop.

Neither happened.

**  
The next morning was even worse, with Kurt waking up and moving just in time to throw up into the small garbage can by his desk.

He wanted to go to school still, he needed to. He needed to see Blaine and make sure he was alright.

But then Burt walked by and saw his son on his knees and flew into protection mode, all but forcing Kurt onto his bed and back under the covers, his body wracking itself with shivers.

“Dad I-I’m fine. I just… Whatever I ate last night didn’t agree with me. I need to—”

“You need to stay home, Kurt. I’m not gonna have you go to school like this, kid. I can’t.”

“But Dad—”

“What’s up with this? Usually kids are jumping for joy at the chance to stay home. Just… Please, Kurt? For me?”

Kurt sighed and tried to keep the grimace off his face when his stomach decided to give a particularly painful roll at that moment.

“You’re really pale, bud.”

“I’m always pale, Dad.”

“Yeah well, now you’re kinda bordering on translucent.”

Kurt rolled his eyes but couldn’t help moving into his father’s touch when Burt cupped his cheek with his hand.  
“You gonna be okay here by yourself?”

Kurt nodded slowly, eyelids betraying him as they began to drop a bit.

“Alright. Keep your phone on ya. I’ll call and check in in a bit, 'kay?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Kurt mumbled, breathing in and out shakily, willing the contents of his stomach to stay put.

Burt leaned down to kiss Kurt’s hair and ruffling it before exiting, leaving the door cracked open just a bit.

Kurt groaned as he turned over, quickly shooting Mercedes a text to let her know he wouldn’t be in. He hesitated for a moment before sending one to Blaine as well. He debated calling the other boy, but then decided against it.

He once again curled up into a ball willed with everything in him that whatever he was going through would soon pass.

**

After spending the entire day sick in bed, Kurt was determined to go to school, health be damned.

He just had to sustain the guise of perfect health long enough to make it out of the house. He could fall apart once he was in the car.

He sent another text to Blaine on the way to school and even sucked it up and called him (it was the eighth time… not that he was counting, and the eleventh text) but again, no answer.

Kurt was worried.

He didn’t know if he had done something or if something was wrong or if Blaine was even all right, and it terrified him.  
A million scenarios flew through his head, combined with the roiling of his stomach and the pounding of his head and it was a miracle he even made it to school.

His eyes quickly scanned the parking lot and he couldn’t help the slight jump his heart made when he spotted Blaine’s blue car a few rows down.

And damn if he didn’t feel just a bit better after seeing that.

He went to his locker, expecting to see Blaine there like always, and was disappointed when he couldn’t spot Blaine’s familiar mop of curly hair.

Frowning, Kurt slammed his locker harder than usual and headed off to first period, too tired to come up with a witty comeback when Azimio called him a fairy.

Kurt walked into his English class and once again looked around, the worry gnawing at the edges of his mind again when Blaine wasn’t there.

He was just about to ask to be excused when Blaine walked in the same time the final bell went off.

All at once the pain and the worry disappeared and Kurt was left with the feeling of right, as if he had never been in pain at all.

“Blaine,” Kurt whispered, relief clear in his voice.

But Blaine didn’t answer. In fact, he barely acknowledged Kurt, deciding to instead focus intently on the teacher’s lesson.

Kurt looked at him in confusion but let it drop, deciding to talk to him after class.

The talk didn’t happen.

Blaine spent the next two periods with Kurt dodging questions and ignoring Kurt’s stares. The only words out of his mouth being “Hi,” “No,” “I’m fine,” and “Pay attention.”

By the end of their third period, Kurt felt the worry creeping back in, but this time it was joined by anger.

Blaine said he could tell me anything, so why the hell is he suddenly ignoring me? Kurt thought to himself throughout all of his French class, upsetting his partner with lack of effort.

Part of him wasn’t even surprised when he noticed Blaine skipped lunch while the beginnings of a headache had been forming for the last forty-five minutes.

Blaine walked into calculus late as well and even sat away from Kurt, body rigid and angled towards the door during the entire period.

Kurt decided he had had enough and left his last class five minutes early, going instead to stand and wait at Blaine’s car to force him to speak up.

“Blaine.”

Blaine jumped when his name was called, eyes widening when he saw Kurt in front of him, standing in front of the driver’s side door.

“Kurt, I’m not in the mood right now.”

“Blaine, just… What’s going on?”

Blaine shook his head roughly, fingers passing through his keys to find the one for his car.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just need to get home, Kurt.”

“No. Not until you talk to me.”

“Kurt, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Kurt answered, crossing his arms over his chest, standing at full height, a few inches taller than Blaine. “You said you could talk to me about anything so… here I am. Talk away.”

“I can’t,” Blaine whispered angrily, teeth clenched tight in his mouth.

“Why, Blaine? Why can’t you talk to me? I won’t judge you or anything, if that’s—”

“Because talking about it will just mean it’s real!” Blaine shouted at him.

Both of them were stunned into silence, but Kurt still refused to budge.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Blaine… But I’m here and—”

“Save it.”

“Goddammit Blaine, don’t fucking do this! Don’t shut me out!” Kurt yelled back, glancing behind Blaine to see students walking out of the school and into the lot.

“Shut you out? You wanna know what’s going on, Kurt? Fine. My dad finally got fed up with having a fag for a son and he left. He just fucking up and left his family because he couldn’t fucking come to terms with what I am. It’s my fault that now my family is in fucking ruins. There. Are you happy now?”

“Blaine, I—”

“Don’t, Kurt. Okay, just don’t. You have no fucking idea what I’m going through.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes a bit at that, posture suddenly turning defensive.

“Blaine, my dad may not have ever walked out on me, but I still know about loss and—”

“Oh, please. You and your perfect little family? With your parents and your brother and everything so goddamned perfect and accepting? You know nothing about this Kurt, about loss.”

That was when Kurt lost his cool. 

He had told Blaine a lot of things, but he had never told him about his childhood, about his mother. Blaine had never even been to his house and Kurt never bothered correcting him when he referred to Carole as his mom. He never felt a need to.

Until now.

“I don’t know anything about loss? Let me fucking tell you something, Blaine Anderson, I know way more about loss than you could ever fucking comprehend.”

“Kurt—”

“No. Shut up. You wanna have a pissing contest over this? Because I’m sure as hell gonna win by a mile. I know loss. I lost my mother and it’s entirely my fault. How’s that for fucking loss?”

Kurt watched the confusion flitter over Blaine’s face, watched as the anger in his eyes melded with it, his eyebrows scrunching low.

“Wait… What?” Blaine asked after a moment.

Kurt’s heart pounded and there suddenly wasn’t enough air even though they were outside.

“My mom died when I was little. It’s my fault. Carole and Finn? They’re not my family… Not by blood, anyways. Finn’s my stepbrother and Carole, she… She’s my stepmom. So tell me again how I know nothing about loss, Blaine,” Kurt said quietly, breaths coming out shakily.

He watched as the fight drained from Blaine, the anger and confusion morphing into guilt and concern.

“Kurt—”

“Save it,” Kurt spat back bitterly before sidestepping away from the car and racing back to his own car, wanting nothing more than to be back home.

**

Kurt spent the rest of the day and night locked in his room, angry tears welling in his eyes every time his mind strayed to Blaine and their fight. 

He wanted to be there for Blaine, he wanted to let him know that he was there and that, somehow, everything he was going through was going to turn out alright.

He also wanted to punch Blaine in his stupid face and yell at the boy until his voice goes hoarse.

He shouldn’t have shut Kurt out, and ignored him, he should have let him help.

And… okay, maybe Kurt shouldn’t have just ran off, but his fight or flight instincts kicked in and before he even knew what he was doing, he was putting his car in drive and was speeding home.

He hated it.

He hated fighting with Blaine.

He hated not being able to call or text him.

He hated being cut off and he hated knowing he was partially to blame.

He hated… He hated feeling alone, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time and was now threatening to swallow him whole.

And he had no idea how to rectify anything.

Kurt groaned as his head chose that particular moment to begin throbbing and he dove for his bedside drawer, pulling out the half-empty Advil bottle and downing three, hoping to god that he could sleep through the pain in his head and his heart.

**

Blaine wasn’t in first period again. He wasn’t in second or third, either.

Kurt was actually pretty certain he didn’t even see Blaine’s car in the lot that morning, something that made his heart tug painfully.

He was also dealing with nausea and a dizziness that threatened to topple the world over every time Kurt turned his head.

By the time lunch came around, Kurt just wanted to curl into a ball and die.

His friends all looked at him worriedly as he stared off, the empty seat next to him almost mocking him.

“Kurt? Do you wanna eat something?” Tina asked him quietly, pushing her plate of macaroni nearer to him.

“No.” God no. Just the thought of putting something in his mouth and attempting to digest it was making his stomach turn.

“Are you sick? Maybe you should call your dad? Go home?” That was Rachel, her eyes scrutinizing every inch of him, scouring for anything out of place.

“Yeah, dude. Burt will have my ass if I knew you weren’t feeling okay and I let it pass.”

Kurt shook his head (bad fucking idea, holy shit, can the table please stay still?) and looked up at his stepbrother next to him, a fake smile plastered on his paler-than-usual face, “I’m okay, just really tired. I was up studying late last night.” He shrugged, hoping the lie was enough for everyone at the table.

He stood up when the bell rang, gripping the edge of the table to keep his balance for a moment before saying a quick goodbye to everyone and heading to class.

He knew Blaine wasn’t going to be there, but that didn’t stop the disappointment from flooding his veins, the empty desk next to him a cruel reminder of how badly fucked everything was right now.

The class went by slowly; each tick of the clock pounding away at Kurt’s skull until he wanted to scream and run away. 

When the bell rang he wanted to cry from both the relief of being able to get out and the pain the jarring pain the noise sent through his system.

It seemed the universe wasn’t done fucking with him yet because the second he left the classroom his head was colliding with the lockers to his right.

The starbursts forming in front of his eyes made him miss the sneer Karofsky sent his was, his hands quickly coming up to hold his head, the pounding so intense he wanted to claw his head off just to make it stop.

All too soon the second bell rang, making Kurt clench his teeth against the racketing sound. Instead of heading to class, Kurt slowly made his way to the choir room, deciding to sit in silence there for the remainder of the school day until Glee.

A small sigh of relief escaped his lips when he saw the classroom was open but unoccupied.

He closed the door behind him and quickly slammed his hand against the wall to shut the lights off. He shuffled over to the risers, sitting in back before lying across three chairs, his head pillowed against his bag.

His head pounded in time with the beat of his heart, the blood in his veins. It made his eyesight blur, the chairs in front of him doubling before he decided to just close his eyes and wrap his arms around his torso, trying to hold himself together.

All too soon the last bell rang and within moments, the door was opening and the lights were turned on, the harsh brightness making him hiss in pain.

“Who’s—Kurt?”

Kurt sat up slowly, hand against his head as he breathed deeply. In through your nose, out through your mouth. One, two, three… he told himself, trying to force down the urge to throw up at his movements.

“Hey Mr. Schue,” he called out quietly, glancing up at the teacher.

“Kurt, what are you doing in here? Why were you in the dark?”

“I, um…”

What was he gonna say? That he was fucking his life up and he literally felt like his head was going to explode so he came in here to get away from everything?

Not happening.

“My last class let out early so I just came in here. I had a bit of a headache, so I left the lights off,” he explained, making sure to keep eye contact with Mr. Schuester the whole time.

He seemed to buy Kurt’s story, simply nodding sympathetically as the other kids started trickling in.

“Where’s Blaine?” Mr. Schue asked when he noticed that, for the second day, one of his kids was missing.

Hearing his name was like a kick to the gut for Kurt. It made him realize that Blaine wasn’t just missing from his life and that the other boy’s absence was affecting people other than himself.

“He stayed home today, Mr. Schue. Told me he wasn’t feeling well this morning.” Sam spoke up.

And okay that hurt. It hurt that other people, Sam, knew more about Blaine than he did at the moment. 

It hurt to know that Blaine wasn’t feeling well and that he didn’t bother to tell Kurt. That no one bothered to tell Kurt.  
Why the hell didn’t Sam say something sooner? Didn’t he deserve to know if Blaine—

He stopped himself, because no, he didn’t. 

He wasn’t fucking entitled to anything. 

It didn’t matter that everything felt right when he was with Blaine and that they told each other things, that they trusted each other.

It didn’t mean a damn thing.

Because he wasn’t Blaine’s and Blaine wasn’t his and he didn’t have a right to know anything about the boy.

Kurt didn’t realize the lesson had continued on until he heard his name being called, “Kurt? You with us?”

“Huh? Oh… Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, looking up to see everyone watching him.

The guys were all standing in front of the room and Mr. Schue was looking at him expectantly.

Guess it’s time to move, he thought to himself, kicking his bag over a bit and standing to walk down to the front of the room.

The thing is, he stood way too fast and the room had suddenly begun spinning, tilting on its axis, the floor rising up way too quickly to greet him as the edges of his vision began to grow blurry, dark.

He faintly registered the gasps and yells around him before the pain coursing through him became too much and he let the darkness take over.

**

When Kurt finally woke up, he realized things slowly.

One, he was lying down.

Two, his head was still threatening to split in half.

And three, he felt a clammy hand in his and his mind only came up with one thing: Blaine.

Kurt forced his eyes open to look over and he saw… Finn. Finn was the one awkwardly holding his hand, his knee bouncing up and down quickly, phone gripped tightly in his other hand.

Finn was the one that was there for him. Not… Not Blaine.

“Kurt?”

Kurt’s eyes flicked up to meet his stepbrother’s and he saw the relief there, the invisible weight literally lifting off his shoulders as he let out a sigh of relief.

“Dude, you totally just fainted in the middle of Glee. You hit your face on the side of one of the chairs, so you sorta have a bruise, but the nurse said you shouldn’t have a concussion or anything.”

Kurt took in Finn’s words slowly, trying to process them all, but thinking just made his head pound harder, so he stopped. 

“W-Where’s my dad?”

“He should be here any minute. I called him the second we got you in here.”

“We?”

Finn nodded. “Mike and Puck carried you here to the nurse’s office. Thankfully, she was still here.”

“How long have I been out?”

He looked down at his phone before answering Kurt. “About ten minutes. If you were still unconscious by the time Burt got here, we were gonna take you to the hospital.”

Kurt shuddered at the thought.

He did not need to set foot in a hospital ever again, thank you very much.

Kurt was about to open his mouth again when the door swung open and Burt Hummel looked around wildly before zeroing in on Kurt.

“Oh, thank god.”

Finn took his hand out of Kurt’s and moved so Burt could occupy his seat, the older man’s hands instantly coming up. He smoothed over Kurt’s hair and gently tilted his son’s face to get a better look at the bruise before both hands gripping one of Kurt’s.

“How ya feelin’, buddy?”

“Tired,” Kurt answered honestly, eyes half lidded as he stared at his father’s face.

Burt nodded before talking to Finn. “Let the nurse know I’m here and bring the car around, I’ll be out with him in a sec.” he said, digging out his car keys and handing them to his stepson who nodded and left.

“Dad… I’m okay,” Kurt said quietly when Burt remained silent, his eyes raking over his son.

Burt didn’t answer, but he nodded. He didn’t want to admit that when he got the call that Kurt was unconscious, his heart had lurched painfully, memories of eight years ago flooding his mind.

“Let’s get you home, bud,” Burt said quietly, allowing Kurt to sit up slowly and holding onto his arm as they walked down the hall and outside, Finn meeting them on the curb.

**

Kurt once again spent the rest of the day in bed, barely being able to choke down the light dinner Carole made for him without having the need to throw it back up with the way his stomach was constantly twisting.

He just wanted it all to end already. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t go to bed in immense pain, wanting to rip his head off or claw his insides out just to get it to all stop.

He fell into a fitful sleep, but was shocked awake when he heard noise outside of his window. He turned over and screamed, almost falling out of his bed when he saw someone outside of it. He scrambled out of bed and slapped against the wall for the light switch, ready to yell for his father when he realized who it was.

“Blaine?” He asked incredulously, still standing by the door before shaking his head and crossing the room, throwing the window open.

“What the hell are you doing here? Are you crazy?!” Kurt whispered angrily, mad now more than ever that he chose the bedroom with a damn tree so close to the awning.

“No, I’m desperate,” Blaine answered before climbing in through the window and standing beside Kurt.

“To what, go to jail?” 

“To sleep,” Blaine answered exasperatedly. 

Kurt looked at him incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I haven’t slept in days, Kurt. And I bet you haven’t either, so have some pity.”

“Pity? You tried to break into my house, Blaine.”

“Yeah, and I feel better already. You can’t tell me that you don’t feel it, Kurt. The sense of… I don’t know, rightness, or whatever.”

Kurt said nothing, biting the inside of his cheek as he took in Blaine’s appearance. 

The boy was in old sweatpants and a hoodie that was large, engulfing his frame. But his face… His face was what kept Kurt from throwing him back out the window.

He did look desperate. And tired, so so tired; dark smudges under eyes that were duller than normal and his face unusually pale.

“I’m right aren’t I?” He said quietly, looking at Kurt expectantly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on Kurt, how do you feel at this very moment?”

“I feel fine, Blaine.”

Blaine nodded, “Yeah, okay. Now can you say that you felt fine ten minutes ago? Or an hour ago? Or at all? In days?”

Kurt’s brow furrowed, taking in Blaine’s words. He was right. Kurt’s stomach wasn’t making him want to heave and his head stopped pounding in sync with his heart.

He hadn’t felt fine in what felt like forever.

“See,” Blaine answered, raising his eyebrows. “I… I don’t know why or how or any of it. I just… I know that when we’re together or whatever, I feel okay. And when we’re apart… it’s hell. I can’t think, I can’t eat, it all just hurts too much. And you feel the same, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Kurt stayed still for a moment before nodding shakily, letting out a low breath he didn’t know he was holding.  
“So let me stay. Please, for both of our sakes.”

Kurt looked down at the ground, mind racing.

He was still mad at Blaine. He still wanted to verbally tear him a new one.

But he also really wanted to sleep. Truly sleep, without feeling like he was going to implode.

“Fine.”

“Fine? I can stay?” Blaine asked quietly, surprise in his voice.

Kurt looked up finally and gave a tiny nod, “You can stay… But you’re not forgiven, Blaine. Not yet,” Kurt said the last part in a whisper, not even sure if Blaine heard him. 

Blaine nodded before slipping his shoes off by the window and following Kurt, who was turning on the beside lamp to turn off the main light.

He grabbed one of the pillows off Kurt’s bed before unceremoniously sitting on the ground. When Kurt turned around he raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” He asked as he walked back over to the bed.

“Um… Going to sleep?” Blaine said confusedly. 

Kurt shook his head as he turned down the covers. “You’re not sleeping on the ground.”

“Kurt, I’m already imposing and I—”

“Blaine, shut up. I’m not making you sleep on the floor. Now get your ass up here so I can go back to sleep.”  
Blaine clumsily got off the ground and put the pillow back onto the bed, staring at it before awkwardly getting in, sitting beside Kurt.

Neither boy would admit that the close proximity made them feel better than they had in days.

Kurt was about to click off the lamp when Blaine grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“What—”

“Kurt, what happened to your face?” Blaine asked quietly, eyes wide as he looked at the bruising on Kurt’s temple.

“Oh, um…” Kurt looked down at the bed, blushing slightly.

“Kurt?”

“I-I passed out today in Glee. I hit my head on one of the chairs.”

Blaine hissed in sympathy before clicking it all together, “Wait… was this… This was because of how you were feeling, right? The headaches and whatnot?”

Kurt shrugged even though he knew that was exactly the reason.

Blaine groaned and shoved his hands in his hair, making Kurt look over at him.

“That means this was my fault.”

“What? Blaine, why the hell would you think that?”

“Because I skipped school! I skipped because I couldn’t deal with seeing you and so we weren’t near each other. I could barely move at all today, and any noise was like a gunshot. It’s a wonder I even managed to drive here and yet you went to school and had to deal with everything and… God!”

Kurt could see the guilt shining in the other boy’s eyes. And even though he wanted to blame him… He couldn’t. Blaine didn’t know that this was happening to Kurt as well, so he didn’t intentionally harm him. 

“It’s not your fault, Blaine. You just didn’t know. I didn’t either.”

“That’s not necessarily true.”

“What?” Kurt asked louder than he meant to, glancing at the closed door.

“I just… I think I started to realize about a few days ago, after you slept over, that… that when I’m with you, I feel better. I just wasn’t sure that it affected you too. I skipped not only because I wasn’t ready to face you yet, but because I felt like I… I dunno, I deserved it, I guess. I deserved to feel like shit for the way I treated you.”

Kurt stayed quiet, turning over Blaine’s words in his mind before shrugging again, “It’s… Whatever, Blaine. It’s done with and now… Now we know, so now we’ll deal with it. But for now let’s just get some sleep.”

Kurt didn’t wait for Blaine’s reply, he just pulled the covers up from the bottom of the bed over both of them before leaning over and shutting off the lamp.

He didn’t let himself think about the fact the he and Blaine were… connected, or whatever.

He also didn’t let himself think about the fact that Blaine was sleeping in his bed.

He focused on how he felt, on how good it felt to take in a full breath of air without wanting to puke and being able to turn his head without seeing double.

He still hadn’t one hundred percent forgiven Blaine, but this was a start.


	27. Cap 4

When Kurt woke up Friday morning, he was convinced it was all a dream. He opened his eyes and looked at the other side of the bed. The empty side.

He sat up and put his head in his hand, wincing when he grazed over the bruise. 

It had to be a dream. Right?

But then a slight breeze blew through the open window –the window Kurt was positive he closed last night—and it made him realize it wasn’t a dream. It all happened.

He spent the night with Blaine Anderson.

“Oh god,” Kurt groaned as he fell back into bed, sighing deeply before realizing that for the first time in days, he didn’t wake up with a migraine or nausea.

He decided to take advantage of it by dressing quickly and heading downstairs to eat something (and damn was he hungry), surprising his dad with how energetic he was.

“You feelin’ okay, kiddo?” Burt asked as he sipped his coffee.

Kurt nodded as he quickly made himself some toast and drank some juice.

“Where’s the fire, Kurt?” Carole asked with an amused smile as she watched him bustle around the kitchen.

“I just wanna get to school early,” Kurt mumbled, biting back a groan when he felt a prickle in the back of his head, like his body was preparing him for the onslaught of pain he would soon be getting.

His parents both nodded and watched as he ate quickly before he said short goodbyes to both of them and headed out.

He breathed deeply through his nose, trying to stem the oncoming pain as he made his way to the school, clenching his teeth when the dull throbbing began behind his eyes.

He sighed in relief when he turned into McKinley’s parking lot, praying beyond anything that Blaine was there.

He needed Blaine to be there. Now that he knew what the trigger was, he knew he needed to be with Blaine.

God, he was like a junkie needing a fucking hit.

He got out of his car and quickly looked around before heading for the building, deciding to just wait by Blaine’s locker and the throbbing in his head began to pound slightly.

“Kurt!”

Kurt whipped his head to the side to see Blaine coming towards him.

Without thinking about it, Kurt ran to him, closing the distance rapidly and throwing his arms around Blaine’s neck the moment he was close enough.

It was like flipping a switch, the way the pounding in his head subsided and his stomach calmed down.

He didn’t realize what he had done until he felt Blaine’s arms around his waist, squeezing gently, pulling Kurt in tighter, a breath of relief pouring out of the other boy’s lips and tickling Kurt’s neck.

“I-I’m sorry,” Kurt mumbled as he slowly disentangled himself from Blaine.

Blaine shook his head, his hands itching to grab Kurt again and never let go, “No, it’s okay. I… I needed it too. I could barely see straight.”

Kurt nodded in agreement, shuffling closer to Blaine, “What are we gonna do? I mean, we’re together for some classes, but what about when we’re apart? And what about after school and weekends and—”

Blaine quickly covered Kurt’s mouth with his hand, breathing out shakily when the physical contact surged through him like a battery charging.

“We’ll figure it out. Just… For now, we’ll do whatever we can to stick close to each other, 'kay?”

Kurt nodded, not moving even though he desperately wanted to hold onto Blaine again, his body almost aching with the effort to stay still.

“We’ll deal with everything slowly. Let’s just… go to our lockers.”

Kurt nodded and the boys walked into the school together, so close their shoulders were almost touching and their fingers would brush against each other’s every so often.

Kurt relished in the feelings coursing through him, fighting to keep the grin off his face as they went to Blaine’s locker and then Kurt’s.

It was still early enough that the halls weren’t too crowded, so Kurt bit the bullet and closed the small gap between them to grip Blaine’s hand in his.

The change was immediate. They both went from feeling okay to feeling amazing. Kurt gasped quietly at the change, both boys looking down at their hands before up at each other.

“I, uh… I guess physical contact… helps,” Blaine finished lamely, changing the position so their fingers tangled together instead.

They got a few weird looks, but no one said anything as Kurt and Blaine quickly walked to their first period class with no intentions of letting go any time soon.

** 

Their first three classes went by way too quickly for either of their liking.

Now that they knew being together made them feel okay and touching made them feel even better, it was difficult for them to not slide their desks next to each other and crowd into one another’s space. 

Kurt’s earlier thoughts of being like a junkie were now all too true.

Physical contact was quickly becoming a drug to the both of them.

They once again stood in the middle of the hall to go to their respective fourth periods, the classes on opposite ends of the building.

“We’ve been doing this for weeks now. It’ll be okay.”

Kurt nodded but didn’t move, “I know it’s just… Before we didn’t know why we felt like shit, so we just dealt with it…  
But now that we know? Now that we know the trigger… It almost feels like self-injury or something to split up.

Blaine looked at him sadly, reaching forward to tangle their fingers together for a moment. “We’ll be together at lunch. And calculus after that too. It’s gonna be okay.”

Kurt nodded again, looking around to see the crowds thinning. 

“Meet back here?”

Blaine agreed and they unwillingly broke apart, walking in different directions from each other.

**

Blaine walked into his home ec class just as the bell rang, quickly walking over to his work table. He glanced across to the next table and saw Azimio, but noticed that his partner, Dave, was missing, even though Blaine knew that the other boy was in school today.

Maybe skipping wouldn’t have been such a bad idea, Blaine thought to himself as the teacher began to teach the day’s lesson.

A few minutes later Dave strolled in. His face went from angry to almost smug as he walked over to his seat.

“Mr. Karofsky, may I ask why you are over five minutes late to class?”

“Sorry sir, I had something to take care of with my last class.”

The teacher pursed his lips but let it slide, turning back to the board.

Blaine’s attention on the teacher slowly fizzled out when he decided to eavesdrop on the boys next to him, for some reason the need to know where Dave was trumping paying attention to the lesson.

“Dude, what did you do to him?”

Dave shrugged. “Nothin’, just made sure that he knew I didn’t like him spreading his disease around. The last thing this school needs is to catch The Gay.” He sneered.

Blaine stopped breathing. 

Kurt. Karofsky had done something to Kurt. 

He needed to see him.

Blaine raised his hand, making the teacher sigh, “Yes, Mr. Anderson?”

“Sir, may I be excused?”

The man raised an eyebrow, “Mr. Anderson, you have not been to a handful of my classes this week, so I’m afraid that unless you are on death’s door, you are staying in this room for the remainder of the period.”

“But, sir—”

“That’s final, Blaine. Unless you want to leave and have that result in a detention.”

Detention meant more time away from Kurt. Which was something he just couldn’t do. So Blaine sighed deeply and said nothing more, the teacher taking it as a sign to continue on with his lesson.

**

Blaine was practically the first one of the classroom the moment the bell rang, ignoring the throbbing in his head to race down the halls and past the spot he told Kurt they’d meet, deciding instead to catch up with him sooner and meeting with him near his class.

He found Kurt on the stairs, the boy walking like a zombie.

“Kurt! Kurt, are you okay?” Blaine asked the second Kurt was off the stairs, his hand darting forward to grasp Kurt’s tightly in his.

Kurt nodded, a small smile on his face, “Yeah, it wasn’t too bad. I mean, the headache came a bit quicker than usual but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Blaine wanted to shake his head, wanted to demand just what Karofsky had done to him, but he knew this wasn’t the place for it.

Instead he tugged gently and led the way to the cafeteria, smilingly slightly when their friends greeted them but continuously looking over at Kurt next to him for any signs that something was wrong.

Kurt immediately jumped into the conversation of the group, his hand gripping Blaine’s tightly under the table but acting perfectly fine.

Blaine bit the inside of his lip, curiosity gnawing at his insides, but then Santana snapped at him, calling him out and telling him, loudly, to “Stop eyefucking your boytoy for five minutes, Frodo, it won’t kill you.”

He scowled at her before quickly changing the subject, deciding he would definitely bring up the Karofsky subject with Kurt sometime soon.

After lunch was calculus and once again, their class together went by way too quickly and they had to go to separate classes, meeting up in front of the choir room once they were done and instantly holding hands. 

It was like charging a battery or something, the way everything changed the moment they were together again.

Today was the girls’ day to do something, so Kurt and Blaine sat in the back, leaning against each other, hands dangling between them.

If anyone noticed, they thankfully didn’t say anything. 

Once glee club was over for the day, both boys walked out to the nearly-empty parking lot, heading over to Blaine’s car.

“So…” Kurt trailed off, holding Blaine’s hand tightly in his, hoping to sap up some extra energy or whatever to prolong the pain as much as possible.

“I’d invite you over, but my house hasn’t exactly been all that inviting the last few days.” 

Kurt nodded in understanding, “We’ll, um, do something tomorrow, right?”

Blaine nodded quickly, “And Sunday too, hopefully. Try and be together as much as possible, right?”

“Right,” Kurt agreed, already dreading letting go of Blaine and leaving.

“Bye, Kurt.” 

“Bye, Blaine.”

Letting go of Blaine’s hand was like stepping into a cold shower. It was a shock to the system, nerve endings firing off, telling him to turn around and cling to Blaine, to never let go.

Instead he walked across the lot to his car and drove off.

**

By 7PM, Kurt’s migraine was back in full force, even making the bruise on the side of his face hurt.

What little bit of food he ate when he got home had already been thrown up and Kurt wanted to cry he was so frustrated with everything.

“Hey Kurt?” Kurt didn’t move as Finn poked his head in.

“What,” Kurt mumbled out, voice muffled from his pillow.

“Just that I invited some of the guys over to hang, you know, play video games and stuff and I wanted to know if you wanted to… ya know, join us?”

Kurt closed his eyes and bit back a sob.

Finn was inviting him to join them. 

He wanted to say yes, to be a normal guy for a few hours and do stupid, guy things.

But even the thought of sitting up make Kurt nauseous, and the sliver of light cracking through the door was searing his eyes.

“No thanks, Finn. I don’t really feel good. You just have a good time, yeah? Tell the guys I said next time.”

Finn simply nodded before standing up straight. “You got it. Feel better.”

He was gone before Kurt could respond.

He must’ve fallen asleep because when there was a knock on his door again, his room was darker. A glance at the clock told him it was almost nine.

“Finn, I’m serious, I don’t feel like playing,” Kurt called out, rolling tightly into a ball in the middle of the bed, one hand wrapped around his stomach, the other futilely attempting to massage his head.

“It’s me.”

Kurt blinked open his eyes to see Blaine in his doorway, looking over nervously at Kurt on the bed.

“Blaine,” Kurt breathed out, wanting to cry with the relief that washed over him.

It was all Blaine needed to cross the room in seconds and crawl onto the bed, their hands instantly seeking each other out.

It wasn’t enough though, and Kurt found himself moving until his head was pillowed on Blaine’s chest, their linked hands now on Blaine’s side, Kurt’s arm lying across his stomach.

Kurt sighed at the feelings coursing through him, the pain evaporating and being replaced with things that felt good and right.

“What are you doing here?” Kurt mumbled into Blaine’s shirt.

“Finn texted me about having the Glee guys over, so I jumped at the chance to be here.”

Kurt smiled into the shirt. “So you used my brother’s invitation as an excuse to see me.”

He felt Blaine shrug underneath him. “I’m cool with it if you are.”

Kurt nodded and they sat like that in the darkness, the only light coming dimly from the street light through the window.

“Kurt?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the other day and the way I treated you. You didn’t… You didn’t deserve any of it and I was horrible to you and I’m so so sorry, Kurt. I was angry and hurt and I lashed out at you.”

Kurt lifted his head to look at Blaine before speaking quietly, “It’s okay, Blaine.”

Blaine shook his head but Kurt nodded, “No, it is. I forgive you. I… I know it wasn’t really me you were angry at. I was pretty much just the closest target.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“And I still forgive you.”

Blaine stayed quiet and nodded after a moment, a look of resignation on his face.

“Wanna talk about it?” Kurt asked, eyes searching Blaine’s.

Blaine shook his head again, “Nothing to tell. I’m a disappointment and a disgrace to my father and he finally had enough of me. He said we should have never even moved in the first place and that… it was all my fault and he was through with it. With all of it.”

“I’m sorry, Blaine,” Kurt whispered, squeezing Blaine’s hand in his.

Blaine squeezed back before smiling sadly down at Kurt, “It’s just… I know he never was going to really approve of me, but I really thought… I just guess I was hoping that one day he would just be, I dunno, indifferent about everything. Guess I was wrong.”

Kurt didn’t know how to respond to that so instead he laid his head back down and tightened his grip on Blaine. He felt Blaine’s arm come around him, squeezing him back. He was pretty sure it was enough.

“Can I ask you something now?” Blaine questioned after a few minutes of silence.

“Uh, sure,” Kurt answered confusedly.

“What’s going on? With Dave Karofsky,” Blaine blurted out.

He felt the boy in his arms go stiff and he tightened his grip on Kurt before ducking down more on the bed, trying to get him to look him in the eye.

“Kurt?”

“What do you mean, Blaine?”

“I mean like the other day when he shoved you into the lockers and today he came to class late and I overheard him talking and… and I’m pretty sure it was about you.”

Kurt said nothing and for a moment Blaine thought he was going to ignore him but then Kurt spoke quietly.  
“He just… He’s been bullying me for years, Blaine. It’s nothing new.”

Blaine frowned before moving, making them both sit up as he clicked on the lamp by the bed.

“Kurt, it’s not nothing. Have you told anyone? Maybe try and get him—”

“I have tried. No one cares. It’s like that, since I’m gay, I’m just supposed to expect to be tormented or whatever.”

“That’s not right. There has to be something…”

Kurt shook his head before looking down. “I’ve tried, Blaine. Short of transferring to another school, there’s nothing I can do. There’s only one more year of high school, I can tough it out.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to,” Blaine said quietly. “You shouldn’t have to tough anything out. This is high school; it’s hard enough without having the fear of being hurt tacked on.”

“It’s nothing I’m not used to, Blaine,” Kurt whispered.

Blaine shook his head again, anger flaring up inside of him. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not right. And about no one being there for you? Well, that’s changing.”

Kurt looked up to see the determination sparking in Blaine’s eyes.

“Blaine, you don’t –”

“I know what it’s like Kurt, and I can’t sit back and watch the same thing happen to you, so don’t ask me to.”   
Kurt didn’t say anything. He was too shocked to.

No one ever really cared about what he was going through with Karofsky and the rest of the jocks. They all knew about it, especially his friends and Mr. Schue, and they were sympathetic, but they didn’t really do anything.   
They never even tried to.

And yet here Blaine was, someone who was hurt more than Kurt ever was, and yet he was still willing to help.  
It meant more to Kurt than he could ever say.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispered quietly. Kurt suddenly felt the change in the room, the electricity parking around them, the way it suddenly got harder to breathe. Before he could say anything, Blaine was leaning forward and pressing his lips against Kurt’s. 

It was just a simple press of lips and both boys pulled away at the same time. Kurt looked into his eyes, saw the dozens of emotions flittering through Blaine’s gaze before he just let himself go and pushed forward, capturing Blaine’s mouth with his again.

It was nothing like when they were holding hands. Where that was warm and comforting, this was fire burning through his veins. It was intoxicating and Kurt wanted more.

Kurt’s hands held Blaine’s face and moved down his neck and into his hair while Blaine’s hands moved down his back and gripped his hips, their fingers leaving burning trails wherever they touched.

Blaine bit down on his bottom lip before his tongue darted out to lick away the sting and ask for entrance which Kurt quickly gave him, groaning into the kiss when Blaine’s tongue tangled with his.

Blaine pulled away and started kissing his way down Kurt’s jaw and neck. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Kurt couldn’t speak, couldn’t make any coherent sounds except for breathy moans that escaped from his parted lips as Blaine worked his way down his neck, his lips trailing hotly down his skin.

“I’ve wanted you.”

Kurt choked out a groan as he vigorously nodded in agreement, pulling Blaine’s face back up to kiss him again.  
“Tell me.” Blaine mumbled into his mouth. “Tell me how long.”

“Since we met,” Kurt groaned out desperately. “I’ve wanted you since day one, Blaine.”

Now it was Blaine’s turn to groan, allowing Kurt to push his tongue into Blaine’s mouth this time, running it along the roof of his mouth and the back of his teeth, tasting Blaine.

He couldn’t get enough.

He didn’t realize he was straddling Blaine until his hips jerked forwards and he felt Blaine’s hard-on pressing into his, making both of them break the kiss and let out low moans.

Blaine’s forehead dropped to Kurt’s shoulder, breath coming out shakily, “We should… stop,” he gasped out, turning his head to lick and suck at the exposed strip of skin on the side of Kurt’s neck.

“Mhm,” Kurt mumbled, tilting his head to give Blaine better access, his fingers digging roughly into Kurt’s sides.  
“Kurt… Tell me to stop,” Blaine groaned, pushing his hips forward again.

“Blaine.”

They had to stop, Kurt knew they had to stop or they would regret it immensely, but it was almost impossible to form words, let alone to speak in full sentences and get Blaine it stop.

He didn’t know how he was gonna stop this.

But then suddenly a crash was heard from downstairs and both boys sprung apart as if they were shocked, chests heaving.

Kurt swallowed loudly, still breathing erratically as he looked Blaine over.

Blaine was a mess, curls sticking up all over the place and clothes rumpled. His eyes were dark, a sliver of hazel ringing the darkness of his pupil, and it made Kurt want to close the small distance between them and finish what they had started.

He figured he didn’t look any better by the way Blaine was staring him down.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” Kurt agreed, running a hand through his messy hair.

They were both quiet as they caught their breath, giving Kurt's brain time to catch up and realize what just happened.  
“I meant it, though, Kurt," Blaine said suddenly, shattering the silence in the room. "I… I want this, I want you.” 

Kurt looked him over again while he processed the words.

Finally, he nodded, leaning forward to kiss Blaine again.

This time it was gentle, slow.

Blaine’s hand came up to cup Kurt’s cheek and Kurt brought a hand up to grip Blaine’s shoulder.

None of the other kisses compared to this one.

It felt so, so, so good and so unbelievably right that Kurt wondered how he’d ever gone on in life without feeling this way, without feeling this utterly complete before.

When they broke apart and Blaine smiled at him, really smiled, all bright eyes and teeth, Kurt wondered how he’d ever gone on without Blaine.

**

They spent the rest of the night like on the bed together, interspersing kisses with answering questions about themselves. 

They kept the topics light, talking about what they liked to do as kids to what got them into singing and what they wanted to do with their lives in the future. 

It was easy to talk to Blaine. It was easy for Kurt to tell him all about his hopes and dreams without fear of being ridiculed.

They hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten until Kurt stifled a yawn into his hand. Blaine checked his phone to see it was a little after midnight.

“Do you… I mean, I guess I should go.”

Blaine made to unfold his legs from under him, but Kurt shot forward, grabbing his arm.

“No! Wait.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow, waiting for Kurt to continue. “Stay. Stay here. With me.”

“I mean, you came here to hang out with the guys, so you can just tell your mother you’re crashing here… right? I’m sure most of the guys did anyways, so…” Kurt trailed off, blushing with how desperate he was sounding.

Blaine gave him an amused expression before he nodded and took out his phone again. “All right. Let me just tell my mom, then.”

The grin Kurt gave him was blinding and Blaine couldn’t help but smile in return before sending a text off.  
“How about your family, though?”

Kurt glanced at the door before looking back to Blaine. “If Finn hasn’t noticed you’ve been gone by now, I doubt he’ll know. And my dad, well. I’ll lock the door.”

“Kurt Hummel, are you trying to take advantage of me?” Blaine asked, smirking and trying to keep the smug look on his face from being broken by a laugh.

Kurt rolled his eyes before smacking Blaine on the arm. “Shut up. I’d just rather not have my father walk into my room at seven in the morning to see a boy he’s never even met sleeping in bed with his son. I value my life, thank you very much.”

Blaine shrugged but nodded, agreeing that he’d rather not meet Kurt’s father while in bed with his son.  
They both went to the bathroom and changed into pajamas (Blaine was surprised Kurt even owned a pair of sweatpants) before climbing back into the bed.

Kurt was suddenly struck by how different everything had become in a mere twenty-four hours. Just last night he was still angry at Blaine, wanting nothing more than scream his head off at the other boy. And now they were lying in bed together, limbs tangled and looking at each other like it was all they needed to survive in the world.

“Blaine?”

“Hmm?”

He was wondering if this was a good idea, them being together. What if what they were feeling was just because of the bond? What if being together intensified their emotions or whatever, and made them think they wanted each other. 

It was all too much to process and Kurt was too tired to keep thinking.

He looked down, gripping the material of Blaine’s shirt gently in a fist before shaking his head. “Nothing. Never mind. Good night.”

Blaine looked down at him in confusion but then shrugged it off, kissing the top of Kurt’s head. “’Night.”

**

When Kurt blinked awake, things slowly started coming to him. An arm wrapped around his stomach and legs tangled with his own, warm breath tickling the back of his neck.

Instead of freaking out like he had the last time, however, Kurt snuggled back into it, relishing in the warmth. He wondered why he was awake so early –glancing at the clock to see it was just past eight am—when a noise outside of his door made him freeze.

Dad and Carole, his mind supplied instantly, their voices carrying down the hall from their room.

Shit.

Kurt instantly turned over, genuinely upset that he had to shake Blaine awake and get him out before his dad came knocking on the door.

Blaine looked different in his sleep, younger.

All lines were gone from his face and a calm expression took their place. Kurt took a moment to admire the other boy’s features.

He took in Blaine’s long eyelashes, and the way they swept over his cheeks, his strong jaw that was lightly dusted with stubble, his curls flat on his head, a few matted down onto his forehead.

He was perfect.

“Stop staring at me, creeper.”

Kurt jumped back in surprised but Blaine’s arms kept him from moving too far as he blinked his eyes open slowly, sleepy hazel meeting bright blue.

“Hi,” Blaine mumbled sleepily, a slow smile appearing on his face.

“Hi,” Kurt whispered back, smiling as well.

“I guess I should get going, huh.”

Kurt nodded, but neither of them moved.

“I don’t want to go,” Blaine said quietly, tightening his grip around Kurt infinitesimally.  
“And I don’t want you to leave.”

Kurt bit his lip, looking around his room before an idea came to him, making his face light up.

“Kurt?” Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh my god, I’m brilliant.”

Blaine’s other eyebrow shot up, amusement and confusion showing on his face. “Uhh…”

Kurt rolled his eyes before untangling himself from Blaine and getting out of bed. “No really, I’m a genius. C’mon!” he said in a hushed whisper, all but throwing Blaine’s clothes at him from last night before turning around.

“Hurry and get dressed!”

Blaine scratched the back of his neck but did as he was asked, putting on his jeans and shirt from the previous night, looking around for his shoes.

Kurt turned back around and went over to the window to pull it open. “Where did you park?” He asked suddenly, making Blaine look up from tying his laces.

“Down the block…”

Kurt nodded, walking over to stand next to Blaine. “Perfect. Okay, go to your car and in about ten minutes, drive down here and honk.”

The confusion on Blaine’s face intensified and Kurt wanted to laugh at how adorable he looked, likening Blaine to a puppy in his mind.

“Just trust me,” Kurt said, leaning forward to kiss Blaine lightly.

Blaine’s hands immediately came up to his hips as he tried to deepen it and Kurt cursed the fact that he couldn’t just lie in bed all day and kiss him.

Kurt walked them back to the window and grudgingly pulled away before nodding toward it. “Ten minutes.” 

Blaine nodded, leaning in to kiss him quickly once more before maneuvering out of the window and to the low branch on the tree, jumping to the ground easily. 

Kurt watched him until he was on the sidewalk and then sprang into motion, quickly picking out an outfit and hurrying to the bathroom, attempting to look as presentable as he could in the allotted time.

He was just finishing up his hair when he felt it, the tell-tale signs of his impending headache.

He frowned into the mirror as he rubbed his temple. It had never come on this quick before and it scared Kurt.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen if the trigger time became less and less, afraid that if the wait time was becoming shorter, maybe that meant the pain would increase as well. 

He gave up on his hair and made his way quickly downstairs, already wanting the headache to disappear and to be back with Blaine.

“Hey bud. What’re you doing all dressed and ready before nine am?” Burt asked, squeezing his shoulder gently as he passed.

“I’m meeting with a friend. He should be here any minute.”

That made Burt stop to face him, crossing his arms over his chest. “‘He,’ huh? Is there anything I should know about, Kurt?”

Oh, nothing. Just freakishly bonded with this guy you’ve never met and if we’re apart for more than a few minutes my body starts erupting in pain. Ya know, nothing out of the ordinary.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “He’s in Glee, Dad. His name’s Blaine and he’s my partner for an assignment.”

It wasn’t technically a lie. It was just that Burt didn’t have to know that the assignment had already passed.  
Before his dad could say anything else, Blaine honked his horn outside.

The relief on Kurt’s face was visible, almost sprinting to the door to leave.

“Whoa, calm down a sec.”

“Dad, c’mon,” Kurt said, voice almost whining. The pain in his head was intensifying and he just needed to get out.

“Just… You’ll tell me, right. When you… when you decide that… When you want to be with somebody, right?”

Kurt resisted the urge to groan as he nodded, the movement causing the pain to flare up.

“Can I go now?”

Burt nodded before adding, “I want to meet this kid when you get back, alright?”

Kurt tensed slightly before agreeing, calling out a goodbye as he headed out, all but running down his front yard and yanking the door open, collapsing into the car and instantly reaching out, grasping Blaine’s arm tightly.

Kurt dropped his head back against the seat as he let out a deep breath. “This is not good.”

Blaine, who had reached up with his free hand to grab one of Kurt’s arms nodded as he sighed. “It wasn’t even ten minutes this time. Usually it took about a half hour for the pain to set in, sometimes longer. But now…”

Kurt looked over, noticing the anxiety on Blaine’s face for the first time since they spoke about this.

He ran his hand down until he reached Blaine’s hand, holding it tightly in his own.

“We’ll figure it out.”

**

They stayed out for the most of the day together, spending a few hours in the coffee shop before going to see a random movie and stopping for lunch, hands clasped tightly between the two of them the entire time.

It was nice, Kurt realized, having someone to hold on to even when he was just walking down the street.

It was definitely something he wanted to get used to.

It wasn’t until Blaine parked in front of his house that Kurt felt his stomach twisting, for once not because of the bond.

“Hey, it’ll be okay yeah? Just breathe.”

Kurt nodded, grateful for the reassuring squeeze Blaine gave to his fingers.

“Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“What… What are we?”

He didn’t want to bring it up, not this soon, but he had to. He wanted to know if he had a valid excuse to give to his father about why he was desperately clinging to this other boy.

“What do you want us to be?” Blaine asked quietly, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the inside of Kurt’s wrist.

“I…– ”

“Because I want… I mean, I know it’s stupid and that we shouldn’t be so into labels, but I want to be able to call you mine, Kurt. I… I want to be able to call you my boyfriend.”

Kurt looked over at him, a hopeful smile appearing on his face. “Yeah?” 

Blaine nodded, returning the smile. “Yeah.”

They both moved at the same time, leaning over the center console of the car to kiss lightly before Kurt pulled back. “All right then. Let’s go introduce you to my dad, boyfriend.”

**

It turns out Blaine meeting his dad wasn’t as difficult as they thought it would be.

They let go of each other’s hands when they walked into the house, deciding to ease Burt into it instead of smacking him in the face with their newfound relationship.

Kurt didn’t beat around the bush about it, though, deciding to just come out and say, “Dad, Blaine’s my boyfriend,” the moment Blaine stopped shaking his hand.

Blaine was nervous as hell and Kurt bit his lip to keep from grinning over how adorable it was.

“I thought you said nothing was going between you two this morning.”

“Yeah, well… This morning there wasn’t,” Kurt replied, shrugging lightly.

He watched as his dad scrutinized Blaine, sizing him up. He could almost feel how tense Blaine was and it was making him jittery to not be able to just reach out and grab Blaine’s hand.

“So you go to McKinley?”

Blaine nodded shakily. “Yes sir, I just transferred this year.”

Burt nodded thoughtfully, scratching at his face. “What about your parents? What’s your dad do?”

This time when Blaine tensed, Kurt couldn’t help but reach out and grab Blaine’s hand, squeezing it tightly in his own.  
Burt sensed that he asked the wrong question and instantly felt guilty, glancing down at the way the two boys in front of him clung to each other’s hand tightly.

“Never mind, kid. Are either of you thirsty?” He asked, catching Kurt’s thankful expression before he turned and walked toward the kitchen, the two boys following behind him.

After that, Burt stuck to lighter topic, impressed when he discovered Blaine's penchant for football, making Kurt grimace.

“I didn’t know you loved sports so much.”

“You never asked,” Blaine replied with a laugh, making Burt smile as well.

They continued talking until Carole came home with a pizza, stating that Finn was once again staying over Puck’s house, so it would just be them for dinner.

“Oh, hello! I didn’t know we had any extra guests.”

Blaine stood up instantly, grabbing the box from Carole before putting a hand out. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hummel, I’m Blaine Anderson,” he said, smiling politely. 

“Blaine is Kurt’s boyfriend,” Burt added, making both boys blush slightly.

Carole smiled back warmly as she shook his hand. “Really? Well then, it’s really nice to meet you, Blaine.”

Burt and Kurt both stood and walked over to them, Kurt standing close enough for their arms to brush together.  
“Are you staying for dinner, Blaine?” Carole asked, taking out plates and cups.

“Well, I—” He looked over to Kurt, seeing the hopeful expression there before nodding. “Sure, thank you for the offer. Let me just call my mother to let her know.”

Burt and Carole nodded as Blaine excused himself to the hallway and Kurt instantly felt guilty, realizing he had kept Blaine away from his home for almost two days now.

When Blaine returned he had a tense look on his face and Kurt wanted to pull him aside and make sure everything was alright.

Instead he made due with squeezing his hand lightly under the table in reassurance.


	28. Chapter 28

They both decided that it would be for the best if Blaine stayed home that night, not wanting Mrs. Anderson to grow suspicious over her son’s whereabouts, and planning on meeting the next day under the pretense of "practicing for their routine." (Kurt was trying to figure out how long he could keep that lie up before having to come up with something better.)

The only thing was, Kurt was right about the pain. Not only did it come quicker, but it felt worse too.

It was barely an hour after Blaine left before Kurt was throwing up the contents of his stomach, his entire frame trembling.

It was like his body was shutting down on him and Blaine was the battery. 

It was a crude analogy, but it was the best his muddled mind could come up with as he slouched into his bed, curling up in the middle.

Kurt wanted to cry at the way the pain was engulfing him, like he was being hacked away at by a rusty knife, being peeled apart piece by piece.

The ringing of his phone next to his ear made him shudder as the loud noise pierced through the silence of the room straight to his brain.

He fumbled with it before pushing it up against his ear, the sound of shallow, uneven breathing on the other line instantly filling his senses.

“This sucks,” Blaine rasped out slowly.

Kurt could do nothing but groan an agreement, his body seeming to curl closer into the phone.

“You okay?” Blaine asked after a moment, making Kurt scoff.

“Right, yeah, wrong question. Why did we agree to this again?”

“Because,” Kurt finally said, “I can’t be selfish and keep you to myself all the time.”

“Right now I really wouldn't mind that.”

Kurt huffed out a laugh before rubbing a hand down his face, “We have to try, Blaine. We can’t…we have to see if this works, if we can be apart long enough to even sleep.”

“I don’t think it’s a great idea to be testing the bond like this, Kurt…”

Kurt said nothing, shutting his eyes at a particularly painful throb in his head. “Look… We’ll see how we are tomorrow. I’m still seeing you, right?”

This time it was Blaine’s turn to scoff, “You’d see me even if you didn’t want to.”

Kurt wanted to call him crazy, wanted to say that he doubted there would ever be a time where he wouldn’t want to see Blaine.

Instead he closed his eyes and breathed deep.

“Stay on the line? Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Always.” He heard Blaine whisper faintly. 

He synced his breathing up in time with Blaine’s over the phone and soon he was, mercifully, falling asleep.

**

They spent Sunday much like Saturday (except they decided to go out for dinner) and Blaine threw caution to the wind, knocking on Kurt’s window at two in the morning.

“You’re insane, you know that?” Kurt said in lieu of greeting, rubbing at his eyes with one hand while the other subconsciously went to grab Blaine’s, fingers weaving together instantly and both boys letting out a low breath at the instant relief.

“Sue me, we needed this.”

Kurt was too tired to argue so he just dropped back into bed while Blaine moved around the room, locking the door and flicking off the lamp before climbing into bed behind Kurt, wrapping his arm around the other boy’s waist and snuggling into the warmth of the bed.

School was… interesting, now that they were a couple. They had held hands the other day at school, but now it was like the entire student body knew that Kurt and Blaine were now together.

Blaine could tell Kurt was anxious but he didn’t let it show. He kept a tight grip on Blaine’s hand and his head high.  
In classes, they pushed their desks close enough that Blaine barely had to reach over to maintain contact, thankful that he barely had to use any effort to make Kurt choose to sit in the back.

It wasn’t until history that Kurt got edgy. 

Blaine watched him, watched as Kurt eyed the jocks walking in warily, body tense, eyes guarded.

Blaine wanted to hurt them. Wanted to make them pay for putting Kurt through everything they had and for making him feel afraid in his own goddamned high school.

He hated that he could nothing except sit rub soothing circles along Kurt’s palm.

Blaine noticed when Karofsky looked back at them, saw the way the jock’s eyes zeroed in on Blaine’s hand over Kurt’s. Instead of pulling away, Blaine tightened his hold, even as Karofsky’s eyes came up and landed on his.

Blaine didn’t recognize the expression on Dave Karofsky’s face. But he knew he didn’t like it.

**

After history, they went to their separate classes, as always promising to meet up before lunch.

Blaine realized as he walked to class that he had Karofsky and Azimio in the class right next to him and he hoped they didn’t try to start anything since Karofsky now obviously knew about him and Kurt.

It took about ten minutes for the headache to kick in and his vision to start swimming. Blaine closed his eyes and breathed deeply, thinking back on the weekend and how, in just three days, his whole life had changed.

He had a boyfriend now. A nice, sweet, kind boyfriend. Someone who was funny and sarcastic and wasn’t afraid to call him on his shit. 

But he also had a boyfriend he was bonded to and if they ever got too far apart, they were hurt.

He knew "cursed" would be the more appropriate term for what they were going through, but he just couldn’t equate the word ‘curse’ with ‘Kurt’.

Blaine didn’t realize he had dozed off until he was sliding off of his seat, his arm banging loudly into the table and pain reverberating through his system.

“Mr. Anderson?”

“S-sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Blaine mumbled out sinking a hand into his hair to try and massage his head as the persistent pounding became sharper.

A few minutes later the bell rang and Blaine gathered his things hurriedly, a wave of nausea hitting him as he made his way to the door. 

Just as he was walking back he felt something hard connecting with his back, making him stumble and slam into a nearby locker roughly.

“What the hell was that for?!” he yelled angrily as Karofsky and Azimio continued to walk down the hall.

“For being Hummel’s butt buddy,” Azimio called back with a laugh, making a few people in the hall turn to stare at Blaine.

He clenched his jaw as a wave of pain slammed into him, making his knees buckle.

He had to get back to Kurt who was probably waiting for him by now.

…Who was waiting for him in the same direction Azimio and Karofsky went.

“Shit,” Blaine cursed, taking off at a run down the hall, ignoring the screams of protest his body was shouting at him and the way his vision was blurred.

He had to find Kurt. He had to get to him and get them to the safety of their friends.

Blaine raced down the steps and turned the corner…

To see Kurt sitting on the ground shaking with his head in his hands.

Blaine stumbled to a stop next to the other boy, instantly dropping to his knees, “Kurt. Kurt, are you okay?”

Blaine heard Kurt’s ragged breathing and he immediately wrapped his arms around Kurt, even going as far as to stick his hands under Kurt’s sleeves, hoping skin-to-skin contact could help even further.

He assumed it did because Kurt slowly loosened the grip he had on his hair and his body seemed to slump into Blaine’s, suddenly exhausted.

“Karofsky, he… I didn’t see him coming when he slammed my head into the lockers. It just hurt so bad and I was seeing freaking double of everything and—”

Blaine kissed the top of his head before resting his cheek against Kurt’s hair.

“Let’s just skip lunch,” he said quietly, making Kurt look up at him.

He expected a fight but Kurt simply nodded, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. Both of them moving to stand and Kurt instantly grabbed his hand again and tugged, leading him down the hallway slowly.

“Where are we going?”

“Just wait and see, Anderson.”

Soon enough they were entering the school library and walking straight to the back, Kurt smiling politely at the librarian as he walked past.

“Kurt?”

Behind the last row of stacks, there were three big loveseats and a round table in the middle.

Kurt instantly dropped into one of the chairs, curling up like a cat and letting out a breath. 

“I come here sometimes, to get away from everything. Mrs. Adam, the librarian, doesn’t ask any questions.”

Blaine nodded, walking forward as Kurt made room for him to sit next to.

“I’m just…” Kurt said quietly, wrapping an arm around Blaine’s neck as he rested his head on Blaine’s chest. "Just really tired.”

Blaine nodded against his head, wrapping his arms around Kurt. “I’ve got you. You can sleep.”

**

Blaine ended up nodding off soon after Kurt, not waking up until the end of last period.

The boys quickly made their way over to glee club and the moment they walked in, Santana and Puck pounced.  
“Geez, were you two marathon fucking?”

“Hummel finally put out! Good job, my man.”

Kurt and Blaine ignored them both and walked up to their seats, hands swinging between them, making a few of the girls grin and, in Mercedes’ case, squeal.

“I knew it! It was only a matter of time before you made a move on my boy.”

Blaine had the decency to blush but Mercedes reached over patted his knee. “It’s okay. I approve. You guys are totally adorable.”

“Mercedes,” Kurt hissed, face turning red which caused her to laugh.

“What? I’m just calling it like it is. You’ve got some serious arm candy now, boo. Embrace it.”

Blaine smirked and leaned over to whisper into Kurt’s ear. “I agree with her. You really should embrace it.”

“I’m ignoring you both now.”

Mr. Schue walked in as Blaine and Mercedes laughed, making him look up to see the two boys holding hands. He said nothing, but smiled kindly at Kurt, who smiled back in return.

**

After that, they fell into a routine of constantly holding hands trying to meet up as quick as possible to not only stem the pain, but to make sure Karofsky didn’t mess with them.

They would sit close together at lunch and their friends accepted them instantly, surprised that it took them this long to finally get together, but all agreeing that they were happy for the two boys.

In the afternoons they would go to their respective homes and do their work as quickly as possible, before the pain got to be too much and thinking became an impossibility. 

Blaine came over for dinner some nights, Burt and Carole agreeing once Kurt privately told them that Blaine’s home life wasn’t all that great at the moment and he could really do with being with them and being happy for a few hours.

At night, like clockwork, Blaine would be at his window by midnight, crawling through effortlessly and creating a routine of Kurt turning down the bed while Blaine closed the window and locked the door.

Sometimes Blaine would bring textbooks with him, both deciding to do homework together so they could get work done and actually think without their brains threatening to implode.

Other times they fell right into bed, the day leaving them too exhausted to do more than curl around each other and kiss goodnight.

Some nights Blaine just couldn’t get away or Burt was in protective mode, telling Kurt he would be randomly checking his room at night, so keep the door open." Those were the times that Kurt would fling himself into Blaine’s arms the moment they saw each other the next morning and they would skip half the day to sleep in the library wrapped around each other.

It was strange, what they had, but it worked.

It was a random Saturday night about two and a half months later when Blaine cautiously decided to bring up the topic of Kurt’s mother.

It was one of the few things they rarely talked about. Kurt wouldn’t ask about his dad and in turn, Blaine wouldn’t ask about his mom. The only times they did was when the person involved brought it up directly, like Kurt mentioning a song on the radio that reminded him of his mother or Blaine saying his father had stopped by to pick up a few things and steadfastly ignored Blaine’s very existence. 

Those nights usually resulted in Burt knocking on the door saying Kurt was late for school and Blaine nearly falling out of the bed.

Tonight though, tonight Blaine felt like asking.

“Kurt?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me… Tell me about your mom?”

He felt Kurt stiffen in his arms and he was prepared for Kurt to deflect the question, to say he was tired and wanted to sleep.

Instead, Kurt sat up and turned to face him. “What do you want to know?”

It was like suddenly a road of endless questions popped into Blaine’s mind, a new channel opening and flooding him with curiosities he never really knew existed.

One questions stood out in particular though.

“How did she die?” It was asked quietly, lower than a whisper, but the words were like a gunshot.

They’d been together for almost three months, known each other longer, but never once had Blaine brought it up.  
Kurt stayed quiet, his eyes downcast and fingers playing with the hem of his pajama pants.

“Kurt?”

“Car accident,” he said finally, keeping his eyes down. “It was a car accident.”

Blaine nodded, hand reaching out to grab Kurt’s, the other boy quickly grabbing at it and weaving their fingers together.

“She was… I was eight, and we were driving home from my dance class. I had just… I got a part in this play and I was so excited so I started kicking the back of her seat.

“She took her eyes off the road to look at me through the rearview to get my attention and to ask me a question but by the time I looked up at her—”

Kurt cut himself off, fingers digging tightly into Blaine’s skin as he squeezed his eyes shut, his body folding in on itself.

“Kurt…”

“She took her eyes off the road because of me and didn’t see the yellow light turn red or the tractor-trailer that slammed right into us.”

Blaine swallowed and frowned at his boyfriend, hearing the anger and self-loathing in every word.

“It was my fault, Blaine. It was my stupid fault and yet I’m here and she’s not. How is that fair? Why do I get to live while she had to die? Why did my dad have to lose his wife? Just… Why?” He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt Blaine’s thumb on his cheek wiping away a tear and his hand coming up to tug him closer. Kurt moved willingly, until his body was collapsed into Blaine’s.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt. I’m sorry you had to go through that and I’m sorry about your mom. But you have to know it isn’t your fault. You were just a little kid, Kurt. And besides,” Blaine reached down to tilt Kurt’s chin gently, looking him in the eye, “I know that if she had a choice, she would have wanted you to live. For you and for her.”

Kurt stayed quiet, but the anger was leaving his eyes.

“I wish she could have met you.”

Blaine squeezed Kurt a little tighter, resting his head against Kurt’s hair. “I wish I could have met her too.”  
“She would’ve loved you.”

Blaine smiled against his hair before Kurt pulled away, getting out of bed and dropping to his knees, digging under the bed.

He came up a moment later with a black circular box and dropped it onto the bed before crawling back over to Blaine and pulling the box towards them, opening the lid.

Inside of the box were dozens of different things: ticket stubs, receipts, pieces of fabric and empty perfume bottles. And pictures. Countless pictures.

“These were all my mom’s. My dad let me have them when I was nine and would constantly snoop in his room for things that belonged to her.

Blaine looked inside, seeing some things old and worn with age, pictures ripped and papers crinkled, the ink rubbed away on some pieces of paper.

Kurt dug through the box a second before pulling out a picture of a woman holding a baby.

“That’s me and my mom.” Kurt said quietly as Blaine stared down at the photo.

The resemblance was easy to spot: the woman smiling up at the camera had the same blue eyes and jaw structure, the same nose. He could even see Kurt in her smile if he looked hard enough.

Blaine put the picture down before picking another up, looking to Kurt to explain it. “That’s my mom and her sister, Lydia. It was my mom’s birthday. I was two.”

Blaine picked up another and they spent the rest of the night like that, Blaine choosing a photo and Kurt explaining the story behind it.

Some were of Kurt’s mother Elizabeth with her family. Others were of his mom and dad together. The most, though, were of Kurt and his mom.

Photos ranging from the day Kurt was born up until his eight birthday. Pictures of birthday parties, playing in the snow and splashing in the ocean, pictures of Kurt and Elizabeth dancing around and cooking, candids of Kurt sleeping on his mother’s chest while her fingers stroked through his hair. Each one had a story and each one made Kurt smile, his fingers playing over the figures in the photographs before he put them down and turned to another.

After a while Kurt just told Blaine stories, told him of how his mom encouraged him to follow his dreams and do whatever he wanted.

Kurt told him of the stories his mom would tell him at night before bed, how he wondered if he could find a prince and live happily ever after like the people in the fairytales would.

When Blaine laughed happily and asked if he had found his prince, Kurt could do nothing but smile and nod.  
That was when a thought hit him and he turned, looking over at his boyfriend.

“Hey Blaine?”

“Yeah, babe?”

And really, Kurt couldn’t help the flutter in his stomach at the endearment, absolutely adoring it when Blaine called him that.

“Do you… believe in soulmates?”

Blaine stayed quiet, brows furrowing in confusion before he shrugged, “I don’t know… I, um... never really thought about it? Why do you ask?”

“Just…” Kurt sighed, already feeling his face heat up in embarrassment, “Okay, you’re going to think this is… really stupid, but—“

“Kurt?”

“Hmm?”

“Just spit it out, I won’t judge you.”

Kurt looked up to see the sincerity written all over Blaine’s face, which gave him what he needed to continue on.

Kurt nodded, “Well, when I was little… I got really sick. My mom stayed home with me the whole time. I missed a week of school and she missed work. My dad actually got kinda upset. He said they should’ve just hired a sitter or something.”

Flashback

“Liz, you really think you should be missing a week of work?” Burt asked quietly as they walked into their son’s room.  
Elizabeth Hummel simply shrugged, smiling down at her boy when he blinked his eyes open tired.

“Who will take care of him when you’re not around?” Burt asked again, leaning against the door jab.

Kurt’s ears perked up at that. Her not being around wasn’t even a thought in his head. It just… The very thought of his mom not being there was insane.

Elizabeth brushed the hair away from Kurt’s face as she smiled down at him, earning a small smile in return. “When that time comes, he’ll have someone who will stay with him and take care of him. Whether he’s sick or sad and lonely or just needs someone to hold him and talk to him, he’ll have someone, no matter what.”

“Who will that be mommy?” Kurt asked quietly, his voice hoarse from coughing so much.

She smiled down at him, caressing his cheek before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Your soulmate.”

End flashback

Blaine looked Kurt over after he finished speaking, letting Kurt’s words sink in.

“So you think…”

Kurt nodded, finally looking over at Blaine again. “I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

Blaine nodded back, thinking things over.

“What if,” Kurt started, hesitation in his voice, “What if that’s why we’re like this? Because we’re soulmates or whatever?”

Blaine shrugged, reaching over to grab Kurt’s hand, “If we are soulmates, then I guess I’m glad I found you now.”

Kurt bit his lip. “But what if we’re not? What if we’re only with each other because of the bond and it’s making us think that we want to be with together when really it’s just self-preservation?”

Blaine stayed quiet, choosing to instead close the box and put it on the nightstand next to him.

“Kurt let’s not… let’s not question this right now, okay? You’re happy with me, right?”

Kurt nodded instantly, reaching out to give Blaine’s hand a quick squeeze.

“And I’m really happy with you. So, for now, that’s all that really matters to me. It’s all that really should matter.”

Kurt sighed slightly but nodded again, agreeing with what Blaine said.

They both laid down, exhaustion suddenly hitting them after the emotional night they had had. 

Blaine reached over to turn off the lamp before holding Kurt close and kissing his forehead.

Kurt heard Blaine humming quietly and just before he nodded off, he recognized it as the same song his mom used to sing to him before bed.

**

Blaine got home early Sunday morning, managing to make it up to his bedroom and change just before his mom woke up.

“Good morning, Blaine,” she said quietly, leaning up to kiss his cheek as he walked into the kitchen.

“Morning, Mom,” he replied, turning his face slightly to return the kiss to her cheek, tendrils of pain already beginning to snake their way into his veins.

“How’re you holding up? With everything, I mean,” she asked when they sat down, setting a mug of milk and coffee down in front of Blaine on the table.

He shrugged as he sat, trying to keep the grimace off his face as his stomach lurched. “Okay, I guess. Why?”

Christina Anderson looked her son up and down for a moment before looking him in the eye. “You just seem… different, lately. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Blaine froze, pain momentarily forgotten, unable to tear his eyes away from his mother.

He knew his father’s stance on everything, but Blaine was still unsure about his mother. Sure, she loved him, and he guessed that automatically meant that she must’ve accepted him… but still. He didn’t know how she’d react to knowing about Kurt.

“Blaine? Does this have anything to do with why you’re out so often all of a sudden?”

He finally looked away, staring at the light brown liquid in his mug, watching the way the swirls of steam floated off of it and disappeared into the air.

After a long moment he nodded slowly, afraid to look back up again.

To his surprise, he felt his mother’s hand cover his own, making him glance up, anxiety eating away at him.

“It’s okay, Blaine,” she said quietly, reassuringly, trying to coax whatever it is he wanted to say out of him.

“It’s, um… Well, I… Kurt. H-His name is Kurt.”

He looked back into his mother’s eyes and watched as various emotions flickered through her expression.

When Blaine didn’t detect any anger or revulsion, he continued on, “He’s in my Glee club and he has an amazing voice and he’s a really great guy and—” He stopped himself, suddenly aware that he had gone from cautious to rambling.

Blaine was once again surprised to hear a small laugh come from his mother’s lips as she grasped his hand firmly in his. “Can I meet him?”

“I—really?”

His mother nodded, sincerity clear on her face.

She wanted to meet him.

She wanted to meet his boyfriend.

“I, uh… Yeah, okay. Sure. Later today then?” Blaine said quickly, his eyes still wide and disbelief in his voice.

His mother nodded again before she stood suddenly, and was on his side of the table and wrapping her arms around him.

“I’m not your father, Blaine. Please don’t forget that.”

And with that, she kissed his hair and walked away.

**

When Blaine called Kurt and told him the news, he could almost feel his boyfriend’s happiness pouring through the phone.

“That’s amazing, Blaine! I’m really so happy for you.”

Blaine smiled as he laid on his bed, eyes closed and breathing slowly through the pounding in his skull.

“How’re you? Like… on a scale of one to ten?” Blaine asked quietly, knowing his mother was still in the house.

“… Um, four? Maybe five. It’s… It’s not too bad yet. I can hold out a little longer.”

Blaine nodded, mentally calculating that it had been about three and a half hours since he’d last been with Kurt.  
“All right… I’ll let my mom know. Come over in like an hour or two?”

Kurt agreed and they said their goodbyes.

Once he hung up, Blaine decided to see what his mother was up to and to let her know that Kurt was okay with coming over.

“Hey mom, Kurt said he’d love to—”

Blaine stopped dead when he turned the corner and saw his father standing in the kitchen, his mother sitting at the table watching him anxiously.

Richard Anderson looked his son up and down with a hard stare. “And who’s Kurt, Blaine.”

Blaine swallowed, steeling himself, resisting the urge to glare at the man in front of him. “My boyfriend.”

Blaine saw the changes instantly, the way his father's face turned into a sneer, his body stiffening.

“I won’t have a queer in my home.”

Blaine clenched his jaw, fists hard at his sides. “You already do. And besides, this isn’t your home. You left us, remember.”

Richard slammed his hand down hard on the counter before turning bodily towards Blaine, taking a few steps towards his son.

“You do not speak to me like that, young man. Do I make myself clear?”

Blaine stared up at his father, his pounding headache forgotten in favor of the defiance and anger swirling through him.

“Then don’t speak about me and my boyfriend like that.”

He was treading on dangerous ground, he knew that, but he had to get the words out.

“You’re a disgrace, Blaine Anderson.”

“And you’re pathetic,” Blaine bit out through clenched teeth.

He expected it. Hell, he was practically asking for it. But it still came as a surprise when his father roughly shoved him up against the hallway wall, his fists clenched around Blaine’s shirt.

“You can’t beat it out of me, Dad!” Blaine said angrily, waiting for the first blow.

It never came, however, because his mother was finally up and breaking them apart, roughly shoving Richard off Blaine and standing in front of her son protectively.

“Leave.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Richard. I said leave. You can come back and get your things when Blaine isn’t here.”

He started at them both angrily before letting out a huff of air and turning, slamming the door in his wake.

Christina stared at the door for a few moments before turning, cupping Blaine’s face. “Are you all right?”

Blaine nodded, everything that just happened crashing into him, making him even dizzier than he already was.

“Sweetie, maybe you should s—”

Blaine shook his head, shrugging her off as he stepped to the side, “Kurt will be here soon. I’m gonna… I’m gonna go get ready,” he said quietly, leaving before she had a chance to respond.

The doorbell rang about a half hour later and Blaine answered the door, relief washing through him the second he saw Kurt, his arms automatically moving forward to hug Kurt’s body close to his, the pain blissfully seeping away.

A cleared throat behind them made Kurt jump and blush as he pulled away from Blaine, making the other boy smile.

“Kurt, this is my mother. Mom, this is my boyfriend, Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt stepped forward and smiled warmly, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Anderson.”

She shook his hand, a small smile forming on her lips as she returned the greeting. “Nice to meet you as well, Kurt. Please, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” he replied, stepping back to stay by Blaine’s side.

Kurt glanced at his boyfriend and saw him smiling, but noticed something off with him.

Kurt scrunched his face in confusion, but decided to ask later.

The three of them moved to the living room before Christina began questioning him. “So, Kurt, Blaine tells me you’re in Glee Club with him…”

**

The questioning when on for some time before Blaine decided to put Kurt out of his misery and state that he was hungry, spurring his mother into action.

The three of them ate lunch and spoke for a while longer before Christina looked at the time and gasped, “Oh, jeez, I completely forgot! Blaine, honey, I have to go to your Aunt Jen’s to get some things.” 

Blaine nodded, looking to Kurt to explain, “Jennifer is my mom’s sister. She lives in Columbus.”

“It’s all right. I should be heading home soon anyways.”

Christina nodded before looking back to Blaine. “Will you be all right for dinner?”

Blaine said he’d be fine as they both looked back to Christina who was grabbing her keys and looking into the mirror quickly, “Kurt, it was so nice to meet you. You’re welcome here anytime, dear.”

Kurt smiled, shaking her hand once again, “Thank you; I had a wonderful time, Mrs. Anderson.”

She smiled in return before leaning over to kiss Blaine’s cheek. “I’ll be back later. You’re okay, right?”

Blaine nodded, the composure he fought so hard to keep up the whole afternoon crumbling as he looked down suddenly, confusing Kurt further.

“Bye, boys.”

They both said goodbye and once the door closed, the room was eerily silent.

“Blaine?”

Blaine sighed and closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands.

“Blaine, please talk to me?”

He took in a deep breath before turning his head to look at Kurt. “My dad was here before.”

Kurt sucked in a breath, concern on his face. “What happened?”

Blaine shook his head, standing quickly when Kurt’s hand landed on his shoulder. “I just… really fucking hate him.”

“Blaine…” Kurt said quietly, now standing as well.

“He found out about you and called me a disgrace. Slammed me into that wall there,” he said darkly, tilting his head towards the hallway.

“I just fucking hate him, Kurt. I really do. Like, what the hell does he fucking know about relationships or love or any of that shit? He treats the people in his life like garbage and just… god, I hate him!”

Kurt could literally feel the anger flowing off Blaine in waves and he was trying to figure out a way to defuse it all.

“I love you,” Blaine said suddenly, making Kurt freeze and his eyes widen because what?

“B-Blaine—”

“No. Fuck him and what he thinks is and isn’t right. He can’t fucking say that shit. I love you, a boy, and he has to fucking deal with it.”

Kurt’s mind was spinning.

It’s what he wanted, what he always wanted, and yet he just couldn’t hear it.

He couldn’t believe it.

“Blaine. Stop.”

Blaine looked at him incredulously. “What?”

“S-Stop saying that. Please.”

“Kurt - ”

“Just stop it, okay. You don’t love me.”

He just couldn’t, it was impossible. After months it was still hard for Kurt to believe that Blaine wanted to be with him, even if it was for the betterment of both of them.

But for Blaine to love him?

Even Kurt wasn’t that dumb.

“Kurt, how can you say that?”

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, stance suddenly defensive. “How can I say that? You don’t love me, Blaine. You’re just saying that because of our situation and because it messes with how we fucking feel.”

“No, Kurt, that’s not—”

“Tell me, Blaine. If we weren’t fucking... connected, or whatever, would you be here? Right now? Telling me all this?”  
Blaine stayed silent, confusion and hurt written on his face.

Kurt took his silence as confirmation. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Kurt tried to walk past him but Blaine caught his arm. “Kurt, wait!”

“Get off!” Kurt pulled away angrily.

“Dammit, Kurt, what about—”

Kurt cut him off again, already at the door. “I’ll risk it tonight. I need space Blaine, I need to be alone.”

And with that he was gone, the door shutting in front of Blaine, the sound of a car starting hitting his ears a moment later as he stood and stared at the door.

**

Blaine didn’t eat dinner. Instead, he went straight to bed, lying in the same spot as the pain slowly crept up on him and escalated throughout the night until he could barely breathe.

Even though it was literally killing him to stay away, however, he did it anyway. He did it because Kurt asked him to.

Kurt, who refused to believe Blaine loved him.

He didn’t even know why he told Kurt at that moment. He certainly didn’t mean to.

But it just… happened, came out of him like word vomit.

And just because he didn’t expect it to happen didn’t make it any less true.

He loved Kurt. He loved Kurt with every fiber of his being and with absolutely everything he had.

He didn’t care about the stupid bond because he knew it had nothing to do with how he felt. 

He loved Kurt.

And Blaine would do whatever it took to make him realize it.

With that thought resolute in his mind, Blaine pushed through the mind-numbing pain to get ready and go to school (he didn’t even bother attempting to eat something, knowing he would just be throwing it back up in a matter of minutes).

He got to McKinley in record time and made his way to Kurt’s locker, slumping down next to it and breathing deeply, telling himself it would only be a matter of time before he saw the other boy.

Even if he was still upset with him, Kurt had to see him. They could go on ignoring each other all day, Blaine didn’t care, as long as Kurt touched him and they got better. He wanted it for himself almost as much as he wanted it for Kurt.

The thing is, Kurt never came.

The first bell rang and Blaine stood shakily, making his way over slowly to his first period, hoping maybe Kurt would be sitting in his seat.

He wasn’t.

He wasn’t in his second class either.

Blaine continuously texted him and got equally frustrated and anxious as the time went by and he got no answer.

By his third class, Blaine could barely move, stumbling into a desk towards the front of the class and his vision blurring dangerously.

“Mr. Anderson, are you all right?”

Blaine couldn’t answer. His blood felt like acid running through his veins and he was afraid that if he opened his mouth he would vomit his fucking intestines.

When Blaine didn’t answer the second time his teacher called him, someone tapped him on his shoulder.

Blaine couldn’t remember the student’s name but suddenly he was standing and someone was helping him walk out of the classroom and down the hall towards the nurse.

The entire time Blaine fought to keep conscious, the only thing keeping him moving was a litany of Kurts repeating through his brain.


	29. Cap 5

Kurt woke up feeling horrible.

Not only because of the nausea sweeping through him, but because of how he left things with Blaine.

He didn’t mean to walk out on him, but he couldn’t stay.

His whole life he was talked down to and told he was worthless, so to get a boyfriend was a shock enough, let alone the circumstances of how it came to be in the first place.

But for Blaine to love him? He still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

It just… It had to be because of the bond. Right?

It was all so utterly confusing, but one thing was still sure. He needed Blaine.

Kurt groaned as he sat up and got dressed for school. He was finishing up lacing his boots when he heard glass shattering in the kitchen.

“Dad?” Kurt called. When he got no answer, he stood up in confusion.

He then heard Carole scream and Kurt bolted, flinging his door open and running down the hall, shouting out his stepbrother’s name and banging on his door on the way. His phone left completely forgotten on his bed.

Kurt stopped dead when he saw his father lying on the floor and Carole kneeling next to him crying.

Finn came barreling in after Kurt moments later. “What’s going—Oh my god.”

“Call 911, now!” Carole yelled, making Finn jump.

Kurt couldn’t move, his body was frozen in shock as he stared down at his father’s prone form on the ground. From the angle, Kurt couldn’t even tell if he was still breathing.

Finn must have made the call because a few minutes later, there was a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and comforting words being mumbled next to his ear that had no meaning to him.

He suddenly couldn’t think about the pain shooting through his body or Blaine’s hurt face when he walked out the door.

He couldn’t hear anything other than the rushing of blood to his ears and couldn’t see anything other than his father’s motionless body a few feet away from him.

**

Kurt didn’t remember the ambulance ride. 

He didn’t remember Carole holding his hand or Finn’s guiding hand on his shoulder as they went to the waiting room and then an ICU room.

He certainly didn’t remember the pain ratcheting through him, getting worse by the minute.

He remembered the smell, though. Remembered the sharp antiseptic and the way it burned in his lungs.

He remembered the sounds, the inconsistent beepings and the artificial breathing.

He remembered swearing to himself that he would never walk into the hospital again, never wanting to be in the building that changed his life forever. And yet here he was. 

He was having a hard time differentiating the so-similar memories of eight years ago with what was going on in the present.

They sat there for hours. Kurt staying silent as his body rebelled against him.

It hurt to blink and to breathe; to simply turn his head was excruciating, so Kurt stayed still, taking regulated breaths every ten seconds and blinking every five, like a robot. The counting helped him stay sane as he watched his father, willing even his finger to move.

Carole and Finn left for a few minutes, Finn deciding to get them both some coffee, Kurt declining the offer to move.

There was a knock on the door and Kurt tensed, his hand tightening on his father’s. He was not going to move, doctors be damned.

“Come in,” Kurt called warily, eyes focused on his dad.

“Kurt.”

Kurt gasped, turning his head so fast he was surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

Blaine was standing in the doorway, looking pale and exhausted, worry and relief battling in his eyes.

He crossed the room in five steps before stopping in front of Kurt, looking down at him sadly.

“Blaine…” Kurt said quietly before reaching up to fist the material of Blaine’s shirt tightly in his grasp and pulling.

Blaine went down easily, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms tightly around Kurt as the younger boy cried harshly into his shirt.

The pain from being separated drained away but Kurt cried harder, his own pain and fear for his father replacing them and shaking him to his core.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Blaine holding Kurt tightly against him and rocking slightly while Kurt clung back just as hard, trying in vain to stop crying.

When Finn and Carole returned, Blaine was still wrapped around Kurt, who had his face burrowed into his boyfriend’s chest, arms trapped between them.

They said nothing, Finn leaving the room for a moment only to come back with a fourth chair that he placed as close to Kurt’s as he could. Blaine looked at him appreciatively, staying on the ground for a few more minutes before Kurt let go of him and sniffed, nodding minutely. 

Blaine kissed his temple before moving to sit next to him, moving his hand down to hold Kurt’s firmly in his. Kurt’s other hand immediately crept onto the bed and held his father’s.

He felt Blaine squeeze his hand and he squeezed back, wanting nothing more than for his other hand to be squeezed as well.

**

It was an hour later before anyone spoke, Carole’s quiet voice shattering Kurt’s concentration on the steady rise and fall of Burt’s chest.

“Kurt, honey, why don’t you stretch your legs? Maybe get something to eat?” She asked him, looking at her stepson concernedly. 

When he didn’t answer, Carole moved her gaze to Blaine’s pleadingly. He nodded minutely before tugging gently on Kurt’s hand. “Come on babe, we’ll just be ten minutes, I promise. We both have our phones on us if needed, okay?” he said gently, as if talking to a scared animal.

Again, Kurt stayed quiet, but after a few seconds he stood, grip becoming impossibly tight on Blaine’s as the older boy led them out of the room.

Blaine walked them down the hallway, past the doctors and the nurses and past the rooms full of patients, past the beeping of machines and past the despairing looks of the people in the waiting room.

He led Kurt to the cafeteria and sat him down in one of the farthest booths before going up to the registers to buy something. He came back a few minutes later with two bottles of water and a sandwich, pushing them over towards Kurt, who didn’t make a move for them.

They sat in silence for a while before Kurt finally spoke up, his eyes still on the table. “How did you know?” 

The question came as a surprise, Blaine needing a moment to process the words before speaking just as quietly. “I, uh… I didn’t. Not really.”

Kurt finally glanced up at him to see guilt on Blaine’s face as he scratched the back of his neck. “I… I almost passed out by third period, so someone took me to the nurse. We were lucky enough to pass Rachel on the way and when I begged her to tell me where you were she just said, 'You don’t know?!’ and then proceeded to tell me that you and Finn were here in the hospital and why.

“After that I made the guy that was helping me go back to class and I just left the building and came straight here.”

He ended with a shrug, fingers picking at the label on the water bottle to give his hands something to do.

“I’m sorry.”

Blaine looked up into Kurt’s eyes to see remorse there, making him take his hands away from the bottle and reach over to grab one of Kurt’s.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Kurt.”

“But I do!” he argued, pulling his hand away. “I mean, I ran out on you like a total asshole and left you alone all night and then I didn’t go to school so I let you get hurt. And I didn’t even call you to let you know! And you drove here. Blaine, are you crazy?! You could’ve been killed and then I would’ve been left—” Kurt’s voice was getting higher and higher with each word, the words beginning to slur together until Kurt’s rant turned into sobs, making Blaine get up and sit next to him quickly, gathering Kurt into his arms.

“I can’t lose you. And. And I can’t lose him, and dammit, Blaine, why is this happening?!” Kurt all but yelled into his shirt, causing people a few tables away to look at the two warily.

“Shh, shh, Kurt, it’s okay, I’m okay. And everything with your dad will be okay. None of this is your fault, you have to believe that.”

Kurt hiccupped a sob as he clung harder to Blaine’s shirt. Part of him should’ve been embarrassed that this was the second time in less than an hour that he was crying into his boyfriend’s shirt, but the other part of him just didn’t even care.

“And I’m never leaving you, Kurt. So please stop thinking that.”

Kurt closed his eyes against Blaine’s words, wanting so badly to believe them, to believe that this boy would always be by his side, whether or not he was forced to because of some bond that was beyond either of their comprehensions.

“Just,” Blaine continued, rubbing soothing circles onto his back, breath warm against his neck, “try to believe that everything will be better. It will get better, Kurt, I promise.”

After a few beats Kurt nodded, pulling away and sniffling. 

Blaine reached up and wiped away the tear tracks on Kurt’s cheeks with his thumbs, giving him a small reassuring smile before leaning in and kissing him gently.

Blaine loved this boy with his whole heart, and he would do absolutely anything he had to do for him.

**

The hours passed slowly, the hands on the clock almost mocking them as they moved at a sluggish pace.

Blaine had texted his mother to inform her on what was going on before he shut off his phone, sighing as he dropped it into his pocket. Carole called a few family members while Finn mass-texted the New Directions. 

Kurt simply sat and watched his dad.

He had never stared at anything so intently in his life as he did his father. Kurt would look at his eyes, hoping for maybe a flutter of his eyelashes. He looked at his hands, hoping for a twitch of his fingers. But nothing ever happened and with each passing hour, Blaine could almost feel the hopelessness as it slowly consumed the boy next to him.

When nighttime came Finn went home, promising to bring them all back actual food. Carole decided to stay with her husband but left the room to walk her son out.

Kurt wanted to stay. He wanted to stay badly, but then he looked over at Blaine, who was slumped over in his chair, light purple bags beginning to form under his eyes, and Kurt knew that they should go home so Blaine could sleep.

“We should go.”

“What?” Blaine asked, sitting up straight, eyes widening.

“Blaine, you’re exhausted and I put you through hell today, so come on, we can sleep tonight and I’ll just come back tomorrow once you’re rested.”

Blaine shook his head adamantly, crossing his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Blaine,” Kurt sighed, rubbing his hand down his face.

“No,” Blaine said again, reaching over to grab Kurt’s hand off his face. “Listen to me, Kurt. We are not leaving. You are not leaving your father’s side. You’re staying right where you are.”

“But what about—”

“I’m staying too.”

Kurt sighed his name again, his face falling.

“Kurt, you need to stay with your father and you need to stay with me, so I’m staying also. I’m not going to leave you just for sleep. Please don’t worry about me. And besides, I’d want to stay with you even if we weren’t connected.”

Kurt looked him in the eyes for a long moment, brows furrowed.

“I’m not leaving you, Kurt. We’re staying here. Together.” Blaine said again quietly but in an absolute tone, squeezing his hand before letting go and settling back into his chair, tipping his head against the wall and closing his eyes.

Kurt continued to stare at him, confusion swirling through him.

Blaine… Blaine wanted to stay. He was willing to spend the night (after already spending the entire day) in a small hospital room with Kurt because Kurt wanted to stay, not because they had to stay together.

Why?

“Why?” Kurt asked allowed, voice small, almost afraid of the answer.

“Because I love you,” Blaine said simply, keeping his eyes closed.

Kurt was struck with the answer, everything around him seeming to freeze.

Blaine loved him.

Blaine loved him.

The realization was like a punch to the gut the way it hit him because Blaine… Blaine loved him.

And he was pretty sure he was starting to love him back.

**

It took a while to convince the hospital staff to not only let Kurt stay but Blaine as well, but with some persuasion from Carole, both boys were allowed to stay.

Carole and Blaine fell asleep a short time later, a glance at the clock ticking on the wall showed Kurt that it was a little past one am.

But he couldn’t sleep.

Actually, he refused to.

The last time he fell asleep in a hospital he lost his mother and he was not about to let the same thing happen again.  
So instead, Kurt continued doing what he had been for hours.

Staring.

But this time he changed it up, looking at his father every few minutes before turning his head to look at the boy next to him, asleep but still gripping Kurt’s hand tightly in his lap.

Blaine’s words kept echoing in Kurt’s head,IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou repeating like a mantra.

It was a little past four when movement across the bed made Kurt look up, Carole’s eyes blinking open slowly before connecting with Kurt’s as she gave him a small, sad smile.

“Have you slept any, sweetie?”

Carole took Kurt’s silence as a no and sighed quietly as she glanced over at Blaine, her eyes landing on the way he held onto Kurt’s hand even in his sleep.

“That boy really cares about you, you know.”

She said it matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing on the planet and Kurt’s eyes widened minutely at her before glancing over at Blaine, squeezing his hand gently. “Yeah. I know,” he breathed out, smilingly slightly despite himself.

She nodded. “He’s really good for you too. I’m happy for you, Kurt. I’m really happy.”

Kurt looked up at her again, seeing the genuine expression on her face. He smiled, a real actual smile, for the first time in days.

“Thank you, Carole.”

**

Kurt and Blaine skipped school for the rest of the week (which kind of upset Kurt, since he didn’t feel right having Blaine miss school for him. But Blaine shut him up quickly, saying there was no way he was leaving Kurt’s side unless absolutely necessary.)

They all took turns going home (Finn was nice enough to drop by Blaine’s house to pick up some clothes for him to have at the Hummel’s house since it was closer to the hospital) and would sleep in shifts at the house.

It was Sunday, six days later, when Burt finally woke up.

It was close to 10PM, and once again Kurt, Blaine, and Carole were in the room (they had gone home the night before with Finn keeping vigil in the hospital).

Carole was watching the news on the TV mounted on the wall quietly while Kurt and Blaine sat together, slumped in their chairs next to the bed.

As always, Kurt held one of his father’s hands and Blaine held the other, the later drawing nonsensical patterns on his palm while Kurt tried to stay awake, eyelids growing heavy.

That was when he felt it. Something so faint he was probably imagining it but it still made him snap upright, startling Blaine.

“Ku—”

Kurt shushed him, staring down intently at his father. Carole hit the mute button on the tv and looked over, confusion and anxiety warring in her expression.

“D-Dad?” Kurt asked quietly, voice shaking, hand trembling in Blaine’s grasp.

“Dad? C-can you hear me? It’s me… Kurt. Dad? Please?” He asked again, staring hard down at the hand in his.  
And then it happened again.

He felt the slightest amount of pressure on his hand and heard Carole gasp, which meant she saw it too.

Which meant it was real.

Which meant Burt was conscious.

Blaine stood up suddenly and went to the door, sticking his head out and calling for a nurse quickly, one appearing a few moments later.

“What’s going—oh!” The nurse said in surprise, seeing the hand Kurt was holding curled slightly, Burt's eyelids beginning to flutter.

The nurse ran out to get a doctor and when two returned along with the nurse, Kurt was moved away from the bed.

He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt Blaine’s hands once again on his face, his thumbs wiping away his tears.

“Oh god,” Kurt mumbled before burrowing his face into Blaine’s shirt, the older boy’s arms instantly coming up to wrap themselves around Kurt.

Carole moved next to them and put a hand on Blaine’s shoulder to lead them out of the room to let the doctors work. 

The three of them stood outside for a few minutes, Carole calling Finn to let him know Burt was awake, before one of the doctors came out to say he was stable but would probably fall asleep soon.

Carole rushed in immediately, her eyes shining with tears as she smoothed her hand over Burt’s head, leaning down to kiss his forehead gently and whispering to him quietly.

Kurt still clung to Blaine and watched from the doorway, unable to move.

After a few moments Burt moved his gaze away from Carole and looked at Kurt, giving him a look that was equal parts loving and apologetic.

“Kurt…” Burt called out quietly, making him sob before he tore out of Blaine’s grasp and raced the short distance across the room. He collapsed onto his knees by the bed and dropped his head to his father’s chest, his eyes burning with tears.

“I’m so sorry, buddy,” Burt said quietly, running one hand through Kurt’s hair and the other over his back.

Kurt sniffed loudly but nodded before looking up, his eyes red and puffy.

Burt ran his hand gently down the side of Kurt’s face and neck before gripping his shoulder and tugging until he was hugging Kurt as best as he could, Kurt’s arms gently winding around his neck.

“I love you,” Kurt said quietly, breathing in his father’s scent, never wanting to take it for granted ever again.

“I love you too, Kurt.”

**

Kurt doesn’t let go of his dad’s hand the entire time the doctor in the room rattles things off to Burt and Carole.

He doesn’t even move when the nurses come in, he just pulls his chair in closer and makes them work around him.

It’s difficult, but it works.

When Finn comes back Kurt is somewhat surprised to see the utter relief and happiness on his stepbrother’s face. He knew that Finn loved him in some weird way, but this was the first time Kurt saw just how much Finn loved his father.  
It brought a small smile to his lips.

He felt a tug on his hand and looked over at Burt. “Yeah?”

His dad smiled tired at him before nodding to the door. “Bud, why don’t you go home and get some actual sleep?”

“But Dad—”

“Kurt. I promise you, I’m okay. And it would make me feel so much better to know that you got a good night’s sleep at home for once this week. Please?”

Kurt stayed silent and Burt then flicked his gaze over to the boy next to him. “Thank you, by the way.”

Blaine’s eyes widened minutely before his face scrunched in confusion. “Sir?”

Burt shook his head, taking in a deep breath. “It’s Burt, Blaine. And I know you’ve been here the whole time for my son and just… thank you, for that. It’s nice to know that someone will be there to take care of him when I’m not able to.”

Kurt didn’t hear Blaine’s reply through the sudden rush of blood pounding through his ears, his dad’s words buzzing in his head as a memory from eight years ago filled his mind,

“When that time comes, he’ll have someone who will stay with him and take care of him. Whether he’s sick or sad and lonely or just needs someone to hold him and talk to him, he’ll have someone, no matter what.”

“Who will that be mommy?” 

Elizabeth smiled down at him, caressing his cheek before leaning down to kiss his forehead, “Your soulmate.”

“—urt? Kurt?”

Kurt sucked in a small breath, shaking his head a bit before looking up. “S-Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“Kurt, I really want you to go home for the night, okay? Blaine will go with you so you’re not alone and you can come back here first thing, all right?”

Kurt looked at Blaine before looking at his father. He bit his lip before giving a small nod of his head. “Okay, Dad.”

Burt smiled and tugged Kurt’s hand, making him move closer towards the bed so he could kiss Kurt’s temple.

“Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too. You kids be safe driving home.”

“We will Mr. Hu—Burt,” Blaine answered, smiling gratefully at the man before tangling his fingers with Kurt’s and leading them out of the room and out of the hospital.


	30. End

7]  
The drive home was silent. Blaine offered to drive and Kurt relented easily, so he now had his head propped up against the window, staring at the darkness flying by the car while his mind was in a whirlwind.

He tried to get his thoughts in order before they arrived at the house.

First things first, Blaine loved him. That much he was pretty positive about. 

Second, as… absolutely ridiculously crazy as it sounded, he was pretty sure Blaine was his soulmate. (And really, the more he thought of it, it didn’t seem all that ridiculous at all, seeing as how he couldn’t go more than ten yards away from the other boy without his body exploding in pain).

Speaking of that, the bond was the next thing on Kurt’s mind. He still had no utter idea how it started, only that it forced him and Blaine together. But Blaine… His feelings for Kurt were real. He knew that now. He accepted it. 

Blaine Anderson loved him. And that was that. End of.

Before he could continue on that train of thought, Blaine was pulling the keys out of the ignition and opening his door. Kurt followed suit and walked up the path with Blaine, opening the door for them and sighing as he closed it.

“You okay?” Blaine asked quietly, the dim glow from the living room light that was still on casting shadows across his skin.

Kurt nodded. “Just thinking, is all.”

Blaine nodded as well before reaching over to grab Kurt’s hand in his, “Kurt, I, um… I wanna… Can we talk? Please?”

Kurt furrowed his brow but agreed, allowing Blaine to tug him along until they were in his bedroom, closing the door behind them out of habit.

Blaine spun to face him, grabbing his other hand as well, kissing the knuckles on Kurt’s left hand before holding them both close to his chest.

“Blaine?”

“Kurt, I just. I need to make this clear to you, okay? I have to… I have to make you understand.”

Kurt looked at him confusedly but nodded, urging Blaine to continue. 

“Just... I don't care about anyone else, Kurt, I don't want anyone else. God, I want you. I want to be with you, for however long you’ll have me.”

Kurt could feel Blaine’s heart thundering from under his fingers still pressed tightly into Blaine’s chest. It made his own heart skip a beat.

He was about to speak but Blaine shook his head, not yet finished.

“And just… God, fuck whatever this...bond is between us, okay? It could disappear tomorrow and I won't fucking care because it's not what's making me love you. It may be what brought us together, Kurt, but it's not why I want to stay. Please. You need to believe me. Just… please.”

Kurt looked into Blaine’s eyes and saw how scared he was, like he could absolutely destroy the other boy with just one word.

The blood was rushing to Kurt’s ears again but this time it didn’t matter.

Kurt already knew what to say.

He’d known what to say for a long time now, he was just afraid to admit it.

To himself and to Blaine.

But now he had to. He had to.

Keeping the words in any longer could very well kill him, he thought.

“I love you.”

The silence was immediate, even the sound of Blaine’s breathing disappearing, as if the whole world has frozen in time.

But then Blaine breathed out and blinked slowly, looking at Kurt as if he had never seen him before.

“You love me.” It wasn’t a question. It was barely even a statement, the way Blaine let the words out on a breath, the syllables no louder than the beating of Kurt’s heart.

Kurt swallowed loudly before nodding his head jerkily, his fingers subconsciously curling around the fabric of Blaine’s shirt.

“I love you,” Kurt repeated, affirming it, nodding a little for emphasis before speaking again, the words now tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them, “I love you and I’m… I’m so sorry Blaine. I’m sorry for running out and calling you a liar and just not accepting your feelings. I knew all along that I loved you, I just… I couldn’t admit it and I couldn’t admit that you did love me because it scared the hell out of me because love means giving someone the power to break you right? Or something like that. But I’m sorry, and I’m an idiot and god I just love you and—”

His frantic words were cut off by Blaine leaning forward and kissing him, effectively stopping his incessant rambling.

Kurt let out a shaky breath when they broke apart, opening his eyes slowly to stare into Blaine’s.

“I love you,” Kurt said again. Now that he got the words out, he was having trouble trying to keep them in.

Before he could think, Blaine was on him again, harder this time, backing him up against the door.

Kurt groaned when Blaine’s hands went to his waist, gripping him tightly, refusing to let go. He sucked Kurt’s lower lip into his mouth, massaging and nipping at it, tugging it lightly with his teeth.

Kurt’s hands wove themselves tightly into Blaine’s hair when Blaine’s tongue ghosted over the seam of his mouth, asking for entrance which Kurt quickly gave.

He pushed them both away from the door without breaking the kiss, making out almost violently, desperately, pressing into each other closerclosercloser, as they stumbled onto Kurt’s bed, Blaine on his back with Kurt following after him.

They had done things before, of course. They were both teenage boys who slept in the same bed together almost every single night for the past four months.

So to Kurt, this wasn’t exactly new.

What was new, however, were the feelings coursing through him. If he didn’t know any better, he would swear that his emotions were doubled, once for him, and once for Blaine.

Everything felt hotter, harder. He needed everything stronger, his body craving every press of Blaine’s skin to his. He may very well die if Blaine were to decide to pull away at any moment.

He also felt so full of love and desire that he thought he might implode because of it.

It was overwhelming.

It was amazing. 

Blaine broke the kiss and flipped them over before he went to work on his neck, Kurt all but groaning at the sensations swirling through him with every move Blaine made. his head began to spin as he felt the brush of Blaine’s fingers against the buttons of his shirt, one by one pulling it open, his lips following his hands and kissing at the skin being revealed until he was at Kurt’s navel and then coming back up to capture his lips again.

It was much too much and not nearly enough.

Kurt discarded his shirt, haphazardly throwing it somewhere across his room moments before gripping the hem of Blaine’s shirt, the backs of his knuckles grazing the older boy’s skin lightly, causing him to gasp as Kurt pulled the shirt up and off of his body.

Somewhere along the line they managed to get their pants off too and it was when Blaine had his index fingers tucked into the waistband of Kurt’s briefs that they both pulled apart.

Kurt looked up into Blaine’s eyes, registering in the back of his mind that the swirls of greens and browns made up his new favorite color.

He felt one of Blaine’s hands slip away for a moment before it came up and brushed a few strands of hair away from his face, Blaine’s eyes staring just as intently into his.

They were having a silent conversation, something they did many times that annoyed their friends to no end. They didn’t know if it was because of the bond or not, but with Kurt and Blaine…they never really needed words. They could tell what the other was thinking with a glance.

But now Blaine was asking him something. Asking if this was okay, if he was ready. If they were ready.

Kurt nodded, keeping his eyes locked with Blaine’s, conveying through his gaze how much he wanted it and how much he wanted it with him.

Kurt saw the moment it dawned on Blaine just what it was Kurt was consenting to. He saw the way Blaine’s eyes widened minutely and the way his pupils grew, all but swallowing his irises.

Blaine licked his lips and nodded jerkily, leaning down to kiss him slowly before moving his hands back to where they were and pulling down Kurt’s briefs before pulling off his own.

Everything was slow, precise, gentle, Blaine’s touches like sparks to his system, leaving his heart jack-rabbiting in his chest.

Blaine kissed and licked every inch of him while his hand stroked his dick maddeningly slow, fingers loose and teasing around him.

“B-Blaine,” Kurt breathed out, chest heaving.

Blaine pulled his head away from a patch of a skin at Kurt’s hip, leaving what was bound to be a rather spectacular hickey, to look up at him.

Kurt noticed the glint in his eye, realized that he was getting off on the way he was slowly but surely breaking Kurt apart.

Kurt wanted to glare at him, wanted to return the favor and not make a real move until Blaine was begging but at that point he couldn’t. He was too far gone to speak coherently let alone to tease his boyfriend mercilessly.

“God—please,” Kurt groaned out, arching his back when Blaine tightened his fingers around him and pumped a few times, Blaine’s thumb rubbing at the bundle of nerves underneath the head.

Blaine pulled away suddenly and Kurt whimpered (yes, he whimpered, but his seriously hot boyfriend moved away without warning mid-handjob, sue him). He was about to reach down and finish the job himself when Blaine returned and batted his hand away.

Kurt huffed in frustration and looked down, seeing Blaine drop a condom on the bed and opening a bottle of lube Kurt kept in drawer and oh, now Blaine moving away made more sense.

Blaine dripped lube onto the fingers of his right hand, rubbing them together to warm it up before looking up at Kurt.  
Kurt’s response was to simply widen his legs apart, self-consciousness having fled him ages ago and replaced with pure need.

Blaine slid his index finger into him slowly, groaning low in his throat when he pushed in all the way. He moved it in and out slowly before pulling back and pushing back in with two fingers, slower this time, watching Kurt’s face for any signs of discomfort.

Blaine scissored his fingers, stretching Kurt open as painlessly as he could. His middle finger brushed across that spot inside of him that had Kurt arching his back off the bed again and seeing stars. Blaine hit it a few more times until Kurt was all but thrashing on the bed, his hair plastered to his forehead and his mouth hanging out a bit, sucking in as much oxygen as he could.

He added in a third finger and moved them quickly, both boys not being able to wait much longer. After a few strokes Kurt reached down to grab his hand and pull Blaine’s fingers out of him.

“Blaine, please, I-I’m ready. Just… god, I need you,” Kurt said quickly, breathlessly. Blaine noted that the blue of Kurt’s eyes were darker now, his gaze hooded.

Blaine had to force himself to not just come then and there.

With shaky fingers he tore open the condom and rolled it on, spreading lube over himself before moving to hover over Kurt, his body a hair’s breadth away from Kurt’s.

He had to check. He had to be absolutely sure that this is what Kurt wanted.

Kurt seemed to understand because he brought a hand up and traced down Blaine’s cheek and jaw gently, fingers ghosting over his skin before curling into the hair at the base of his neck and tugging him down gently.

Kurt kissed him slow, lovingly, kissed him like it was the most important thing in the world to be doing at that moment.

“I love you,” Kurt breathed against his lips and into the kiss. Blaine swore to himself in that moment that he would never get tired of hearing those words coming out of this boy’s mouth.

“I love you,” Blaine whispered back, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead against Kurt’s, his eyes still closed.  
He felt Kurt nod against him and he nodded back, tipping his head down to kiss him one more time before pulling his head up.

He lined himself up and pushed in slowly, staring into Kurt’s eyes. He paused at every wince and leaned down to kiss him at every sharp intake of breath, stilling once he was completely inside, giving Kurt time to adjust even though every atom in his body was screaming at him to move.

After waiting a few moments he pulled out slowly before pushing back in, Kurt gasping, breathing out shakily and nodding his head quickly, giving Blaine the go-ahead. 

Blaine moved quicker after that, pulling out almost all the way and pushing back in deeply, maneuvering Kurt’s hips up slightly to change the angle, making them both groan when Blaine hit his prostate and Kurt clamped down on him hard.

Kurt’s body arched to meet each of Blaine’s thrusts, their ragged breathing mixed with sporadic, choked-off groans the only noise in the room.

Blaine moved one hand down to Kurt’s cock and began to stroke him in earnest, pumping in time with his thrusts, making Kurt moan loudly with the overstimulation.

“I-I’m—” Kurt breathed out, cutting himself off with a curse.

“Come, Kurt. Fuck, I want to see you come so… so bad.”

Kurt moaned again at that, scrunching his eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Blaine growled out, fingers holding tightly to Kurt’s thighs, sure his fingers will leave marks in the morning. “I want to see your face when you come.”

Kurt opened his eyes to look at Blaine moments before he came, mouth hanging open and letting out a broken growl before he threw his head back, neck and chest glistening with a sheen of sweat as his heart pounded in his chest.

Blaine stroked him through it, Kurt’s come splashing onto his hand and both of their stomachs, Kurt’s chest heaving with the effort to gain his breath.

Blaine picked up the pace, slamming hard into the other boy, all thoughts of being gentle flying out the window.

Kurt reached down and grabbed Blaine’s hand, keeping eye contact as he brought it up to his mouth. He kissed the tip of Blaine finger gently before running his tongue down it and licking at the come there.

Blaine’s body lurched forward, moaning unabashedly as he watched his boyfriend lick and suck at his fingers and the crevices in between, licking away his own come off Blaine.

“Come for me, Blaine,” Kurt whispered, voice absolutely fucking wrecked and being just what Blaine needed to go over the edge.

He came long and harder, harder than he thought possible, literally feeling like he came his goddamned brains out with the way his mind was suddenly fuzzy and his thoughts muddled.

He attempted to catch his breath as he pulled out, tying up and throwing the condom over the side of the bed where he was pretty sure he dropped his pants earlier, too exhausted to really care about much else at the moment.

Blaine collapsed half on top of Kurt, breaths still coming out short and body shaking slightly from exertion. 

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s shoulders tightly, a hand coming up to tangle gently into his hair, the other tracing random patterns on his back with the tips of his fingers, pressing into his skin so gently Blaine wondered for a moment if maybe he was imagining it.

Blaine nuzzled into the curve of Kurt’s neck, resting on hand over his chest, his heart beating under Blaine’s fingertips.

If he tried hard enough, he was pretty sure he could get his heart to sync up and beat in time with Kurt’s.

He wanted to lie there forever. He wanted to stay in the quiet room for the rest of his life, wrapped around and senses filled so entirely with the boy underneath him that he wasn’t sure where he ended and where the other began. It didn’t matter, he didn’t need to know. He wanted to have this feeling of such utter contentment because of this boy for the rest of his life.

Kurt started moving his fingers in his hair, massaging his head slowly and making his eyelids get heavy.

The last thought he had before allowing himself to fall asleep was that he really would be happy with having this for forever.

**

When they woke up early the next morning, they both had the identical fear that the other would freak out. Instead, Kurt cuddled closer into Blaine and Blaine tightened his arm around Kurt’s waist, nuzzling his face into Kurt’s hair as they tangled their legs together under the sheet.

Kurt kissed his chest before picking his head up, his eyes sleepy but bright. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Blaine mumbled back, voice hoarse. He blinked his eyes a few times before looking closely at Kurt, seeing nothing but love and happiness shining in his gaze.

Blaine leaned forward and kissed him lightly, just a gentle press of lips, before stretching slightly. Kurt covered up a yawn before turning over and glancing at the clock, seeing it was just past eight am.

“We should get going soon, to go see your dad.”

“Mhm,” Kurt agreed, his arm and leg tightening over Blaine.

They laid there for a few more moments, whispering inconsequential things to each other and trading light kisses before going together to take a shower.

Everything was slowly and lazy, both boys not wanting to rush anything.

They took turns washing each other’s hair, Blaine running his fingers through the strands of Kurt’s brown hair and Kurt laughing lightly at the way Blaine’s curls clung to his face so differently from his own hair.

They got dressed together, Kurt actually grabbing one of Blaine’s gray pull-over shirts and tossing it on without a second thought.

Blaine always did love when Kurt wore his clothes.

They finished getting ready and ate a quick breakfast, working together seamlessly, as if they had been doing all of these mundane things together their entire lives.

Soon they pulling into the hospital parking lot and getting visitor’s passes for Burt’s room.

Finn was asleep in the corner, his body sprawled haphazardly over the small chair he was in and Carole was out, probably getting coffee.

“Morning, Dad,” Kurt said quietly, a small smile on his face as he leaned down to kiss his father’s cheek.

“Hey, kid,” Burt replied, squeezing his hand. “Morning, Blaine.”

Blaine nodded. “Good morning si—Burt.”

They sat around for a while, various nurses coming and going to check on Burt’s vitals before Blaine’s phone vibrated.

He left the room for a moment to talk and when he came back his face looked guilty. “Hey babe, sorry, but I gotta go home for a bit. My mom needs help with some things.”

Kurt nodded, already mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of pain he would soon be in.

“It’s okay, see you later, yeah?” It was a formality more than anything, both boys knowing very well that they would be seeing each other again in a few hours at the latest.

Blaine agreed, leaning down to kiss him quickly. “Love you,” he mumbled as he pulled away, smiling slightly before he realized he just said that in front of Kurt’s parents.

Kurt thought nothing of it, smiling in return. “Love you too,” he replied, looking at only Blaine. 

It was only when the other boy was out the door did he turn to his parents, ready to face their questionings.

**

When Blaine got home he saw his mother surrounded by boxes. “I’m separating my things from your father’s from the few boxes we still haven’t unpacked. I wanted to make sure none of it was yours by mistake,” she explained.

Blaine nodded and sat on the ground next to her, helping to separate things.

It wasn’t until over an hour passed that he realized something. He wasn’t in pain.

At all.

Just to test it he pressed lightly against his temple. Nothing.

He furrowed his brow but continued working, his mind racing over the possibilities of why this was happening.

He and his mother finished about two hours later, with three large piles in front of them: one Blaine’s, one his mother’s, and one his father’s, “Otherwise known as trash if he doesn’t get it within the week.”

Blaine couldn’t stop himself from grinning at her. 

“All right. You can go on back now to Kurt. I know spending just a few hours apart must be killing you by now.”

Blaine flushed but didn’t deny her words, a small smile forming on his lips.

“He’s really good for you, Blaine, don’t let him slip away,” she added quietly, reaching over to hug him to her side.

“I won’t,” Blaine promised, both him and herself. “I love him,” he told her, conviction in his voice.

“Well, obviously,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Anyone with eyes—actually, scratch that, I think even blind people can tell how in love you two are.”

It was now Blaine’s turn to roll his eyes, doing so before leaning over to kiss her cheek. “I’ll text you later.”

She nodded, telling him that she sent well wishes to Burt before he left again.

The entire ride back was spent wondering just why the hell his head didn’t feel like it was going to explode.

**

The moment he got back into the room Kurt grabbed his arm and pulled him right back outside, walking them into a deserted hallway before stopping.

“Were you in pain at all?” He asked, cutting to the chase.

Blaine blinked a few times before shaking his head slowly.

Kurt did the same, looking down at their shoes. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Why?” Blaine asked, knowing that neither of them knew, but still needing to ask.

As expected, Kurt shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you think maybe it’s a… I dunno, a fluke?”

Blaine shook his head, scrunching his face in confusion, “I don’t… I doubt it works that way, ya know? Maybe for whatever reason we had it, we don’t need it anymore?”

Kurt rolled Blaine’s words over in his head. 

It made sense, he supposed.

Maybe the bond was meant to bring them together and now that they were, it was broken.

But… That meant that it would’ve been broken months ago, when they first started dating. Right?  
Then what else could—

Kurt’s head shot up, eyes widening.

“What? What is it?”

“I love you.” 

“I, um… love you too?” Blaine responded, confused as all hell.

Kurt shook his head. “No, our ‘I love you’s! What if that…what if that’s what broke the bond?”

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows again, “But… I told you that weeks ago, and—”

Again, Kurt shook his head. “You said it weeks ago. It took me until now to say it.”

They were quiet for a moment, both of them letting the information sink in. “So then…”

“Me both admitting that I loved you and allowing myself to be loved by you must have been the trigger.”

“So then… it’s gone? For good?”

Kurt shrugged. “I, uh, I guess so…” he answered quietly, again looking at the ground.

Blaine moved his hand forward and placed it under Kurt’s chin, tilting his head up. “Hey. This doesn’t change anything. Remember what I said last night? I don’t care if the bond is gone. At all. As far as I’m concerned, you and I are bonded forever already anyway.”

Kurt gave him a small smile before moving forward, Blaine’s arms coming up to hug him. “I love you, Kurt. And that won’t ever change.”

“I love you too, Blaine.”

**

That night, even though it wasn’t needed, Blaine slept with Kurt in his room (if they were honest, Blaine would probably continue to sleep with Kurt for as long as he could).

They exchanged goodnight kisses and I love you’s, curling closely to each other, tangling limbs and matching breathing patterns.

It was everything either of them had ever wanted.

When Kurt dreamed, he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or a memory. He didn’t care either way.

“Mommy?”

Elizabeth looked down at her son, smiling gently. “Yes sweetie?”

“How did the knight know where to find the princess? Like… How did he know she even needed him?” He asked, fingering the edge of their well-worn storybook.

“Because they're soulmates, and soulmates can always find each other no matter what.”

“How?”

“Well... It’s like they're... connected, by some invisible string, a really tight bond that keeps them close so they can always be together. Because once you find your true love, you should always be with them and that way you can both be happy forever.”

Kurt smiled, closing the book and running his finger over the cover. “I hope I get that someday, Mommy.”

Elizabeth smiled again, smoothing over his hair before leaning down to kiss him softly on the forehead. “I know you will, Kurt.”

She stood and turned off the light, standing in her son’s doorway. “You’re going to find someone, sweetie. And when you do, you’re going to be loved forever.”

the end.


	31. Novo

Finally,” Kurt sighed, entering the room he shared with his boyfriend and draping his blazer over his desk chair. “I was seriously about ready to shove that damn gavel up Wesley’s ass!” It was always easy to tell when they were kept late in Warbler practice based on how many times Kurt cursed and whether Wes became “Wesley” or not.

Today had been a long day.

The countertenor had already added his tie to the pile with his blazer, both pristinely placed, before untucking his collared shirt and unbuttoning it, tossing it in the hamper and leaving him in just a thin undershirt on top. His shoes were neatly placed beside his desk, and his pants and socks soon discarded with the shirt in his hamper. Kurt was nothing if not efficient once he got to their room.

Thin brow quirked, he looked over at his boyfriend who was moving 

significantly less quickly. “Blaaaaine,” he whined, a dark edge in his eyes that had the shorter male shivering slightly. “Wes already made me wait how long? Do you really want to make it even longer?” His bare foot tapped on the hard wood floor as Kurt stood before his boyfriend, clad only in tight briefs and that thin undershirt that showed pebbled nipples and an aroused member.

“Alright, alright,” Blaine grumbled, but his lips pulled at the corners, betraying his joy. He did love how cock-hungry his boyfriend was. “We still have to do that reading for Mrs. Godfrey though…” he trailed, knowing they had five chapters to read for their AP English class. Luckily, they were in the class together and so had the same assignments.

Blaine tended to read the sections aloud to Kurt while they snuggled anyway. It was oddly intimate and domestic at the same time, and it made them both feel good. Plus, it made the homework a bit more enjoyable. They were both doing very well in that particular class thanks to working on it together, actually.

Kurt smiled and pulled the book out of his satchel while Blaine undressed and took a bottle of lube from his bedside table. “Find our place while I get ready?” he asked, and Kurt bit his lip, grinning and nodding his assent.

Climbing onto his bed, Blaine pulled down his covers and leaned against his pillows, propped against the headboard. He lazily massaged his length, getting it slick and fully hard as his eyes fluttered shut with pleasure. He loved getting ready for his amazing boyfriend. He loved their nightly sessions. God, Blaine couldn’t wait for when they weren’t constantly under watch of so many other people, too. Then they could do this so much more often. Kurt would constantly be on him. He’d constantly be in Kurt. The very thought had Blaine grunting as he thrust into his hand.

“Don’t overdo it, there, gorgeous,” Kurt purred, climbing into Blaine’s lap, now completely naked as well and straddling Blaine’s hips. The paler male sunk down over his boyfriend’s erection, not even needing to stretch for the fact that he did this so often. He slowly lowered himself, letting Blaine stretch him open, loving the slight pull, the way he felt everything as Blaine slowly inched inside.

“Mmm, I love you,” Kurt whispered, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend as he sat easily in Blaine’s lap, just holding his rigid member inside. It was where Blaine belonged. If Kurt could, he’d live like this, with Blaine always inside of him, never leaving. “God, you feel so good like that. So warm and heavy and big. You fill me up so good, Blaine,” Kurt said huskily, and Blaine just groaned.

Blaine couldn’t help but shift a little bit, getting comfortable as his dick twitched inside of his beautiful, hot, tight boyfriend, until he was settled. “I love you, Kurt. You’re so fucking perfect.” And there was just something about being inside this boy that made Blaine’s inhibitions fall away and let him swear and moan, let his voice fall and get rawer, let him be that much more honest. “My cock slut. Only mine, yeah? God, I love it. You’re so fucking sexy. Mmm. Amazing. My beautiful, perfect, sexy Kurt. Mine.”

It was like this every time they started this ritual. Kurt sank down on Blaine and he worshiped him with words, touched his body all over, trailed his mouth over Kurt’s lips and neck and chest, his fingers marking Kurt’s hips and ass, trailing over his cock in lazy swipes until they finally calmed enough to focus on their schoolwork.

They kissed between chapters and during line breaks, Kurt clenching his muscles every now and then just to make Blaine smile or jerk his hips. They were so content. Until there was a knock at the door.

“Go away!” Blaine grumbled, not at all sounding like himself. He was in a zone with Kurt in his lap, had been for the last few hours, and he wasn’t ready to be interrupted. They shouldn’t be interrupted for the whole night. Kurt usually kept him like this until the alarm went off and they had to go to classes. Blaine wasn’t ready for their little private bubble of bliss to end.

The door rapped again, then the handle turned and someone obviously had the key. The only people who had that were the RA and… “Dammit, Wes!” Kurt screeched, already having been angry with the Asian male earlier.

The Warbler leader had keys to every Warbler’s room for some ungodly reason, and abused that power, apparently. Blaine grabbed the sheets of his bed and pulled them up to at least cover his and Kurt’s lower halves, but did nothing to hide the fact that they were both at least shirtless, and Kurt was very much sitting in his lap, straddling him.

“Oh, uh, we just needed your input on a song choice for regionals…” Wes started, David at his side looking irritated with his best friend. Kurt glared daggers while his ass clenched tightly around Blaine, who tried desperately not to either scream or come, or both.

“Wes, I swear, if you don’t leave this room right now I will encourage Kurt to do unspeakable things involving your damned gavel!” Blaine threatened, making Wes squawk in indignation. Luckily, David had been paying attention to the looks in both Blaine’s and Kurt’s eyes, so he dragged his best friend out of the room before someone got hurt.

Once the door closed, Blaine looked at his boyfriend with sweat on his brow. “Do you think you could calm down a little before you make me come my brains out here?”

Rolling his hips, Kurt smirked saucily. “Who says I don’t want you exploding inside me?” he asked, and Blaine thanked his lucky stars that Kurt would always keep him snuggled safe inside him, no matter how soft and sticky he might happen to be.


	32. Jealousy Will Drive You Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> klaineficrex  
Jealousy Will Drive You Mad  
Title: Jealousy Will Drive You Mad  
Author: klaineficrex  
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine  
Rating: PG-13  
Length: 1000+  
Prompt: kurts on broadway and blaines doing whatever but not bway and kurt has to kiss someone on stage a couple times every show or something and blaines like ok but when you get home youre all mine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! bc hes jelly

Kurt’s first acting role wasn’t his “big break.” In fact, it was quite minor: he was cast in the ensemble for a student-written musical. Blaine, as the most supportive boyfriend ever, was so excited that the love of his life was going to be on stage that they jumped around for fifteen solid minutes anyway.

“Blaine,” Kurt laughed as he was being peppered with celebratory kisses anywhere Blaine could reach. Blaine only hummed in response. “Blaine,” Kurt said a bit louder and gently pushed Blaine back. Blaine’s expression quickly shifted to concern.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Blaine asked.

“You need to promise you won’t freak out.”

“What? Why?”

Kurt took a deep breath, “Because…the show is about uh…male prostitutes and umm…there are a lot of gay club scenes…where uh…” Kurt trailed off. “You just need to promise me you won’t get jealous,” he finished quickly.

“Oh honey,” Blaine said with sympathetic eyes, “of all people, I understand that acting is just acting.”

Kurt’s posture relaxed with relief.

Armed with a bouquet of flowers, Blaine settled into the third row on opening night. As the curtain lifted, Blaine could tell Kurt wasn’t kidding about the amount of club scenes. Right from the first scene, Blaine could tell this show was going to be raunchy. Behind the leads, the ensemble was dancing to a fast beat. Kurt pulled Blaine’s focus. He, or his character rather, was grinding up on another character. Blaine shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Kurt’s character whispered in another’s ear in a way he and Blaine save for the bedroom. Kurt found Blaine in the audience and locked lust-filled eyes. By the end of the scene, Blaine knew nothing of the plot. He only knew that Kurt was right to be concerned about Blaine’s possessiveness.

Blaine was a weird mixture of turned on and jealous by the final bows. His body joined the standing ovation while his mind was shell-shocked by the whole thing. 

Kurt met Blaine out by the lobby, still in full glittery costume and make-up.

“Soooo,” Kurt said with a smile, “what did you think?”

“You were so incredible! I can’t believe you guys got away with half the stuff you did!” Blaine forced a smile.

“Yeah, the director knows the guy who rents out this theater so we got really lucky- Oh! Jason! This is my boyfriend Blaine!”

A boy in similar costume and make-up stopped in his tracks to say hello. Blaine recognized him as one of the many actors who danced with, or rather on, Kurt.

“Very nice to meet you! I’ve heard wonderful things about you,” Jason said, shaking Blaine’s hand.

“Yeah, my boyfriend is unable to stop talking about the things he cares about,” Blaine said, sliding an arm around Kurt’s waist. Blaine could see Kurt flushing under his make-up as Blaine subtly pinched Kurt’s sensitive spot on his side.

Jason laughed and excused himself, leaving Kurt and Blaine alone in a sea of people. There was a beat of awkward silence before Blaine broke it.

“Do you uh…want to get out of here?”

“Sure,” Kurt answered, “let me just grab my things.” Blaine watched Kurt until he disappeared into the crowd.

Kurt finally emerged wearing less make-up and more clothes. He interlocked fingers with Blaine and led them out of the theater. On the subway ride back to their apartment, Blaine draped his legs over Kurt’s lap and cuddled to his side.

“Is everything okay?” Kurt whispered just loud enough to be heard over the din of the subway.

Blaine nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off the older man who was eyeing Kurt.

“So what do you want to do tonight Mr. Clingy,” Kurt asked.

Blaine shrugged nonchalantly, “Are you okay with just watching a movie?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Freshly showered, Kurt settled under the blanket next to Blaine on the couch. While Kurt was in the shower, Blaine made some popcorn, poured them some drinks, and popped in a movie, the menu of which was playing on loop. Before Kurt could catch the title, Blaine hit play.

“What movie did you pick?” Kurt asked.

“We both know that doesn’t matter since we won’t really be watching it,” Blaine said with a smirk.

“I like the way you think,” Kurt said, cradling Blaine face between his hands. Blaine quickly closed the space and captured his boyfriend’s lips in a searing kiss. Blaine crawled on top of Kurt and kissed him hard. Blaine pinned Kurt’s wrists to the plush couch and started sucking open-mouthed kisses to his neck.

“Bla…Blaine…Blaine!” Kurt finally succeeded in getting his attention. “Not that I mind your passion, but what’s gotten into you? There’s no need to rush, we have all night.”

Blaine’s lust-blown eyes showed a hint of embarrassment. Kurt picked up on this and sat up gently.

“What is it, B?” Kurt asked, muting the movie. He brushed a hand through Blaine’s short curls. Blaine casted his eyes downward and crawled off the other boy’s lap.

“C’mon,” Kurt coaxed, “you know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s stupid,” Blaine mumbled.

“Really, Blaine? Last week, I cried for an hour about Sarah getting kicked off of America’s Next Top Model. Nothing is more stupid than that.” This made Blaine crack a smile.

“Alright,” Blaine started, “but you can’t say ‘I told you so.’”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Seeing you on stage tonight, dancing on all those guys, made me...uh…quite jealous.”

Kurt visibly swallowed the I-told-you-so in this mouth.

“And I know I promised not to get jealous, but you looked so hot and you had your bedroom eyes going full blast and-“

Kurt silenced him with a chaste kiss.

“Shhh…it’s fine, Blaine. This is completely normal,” Kurt cradled Blaine’s head and rubbed his thumb over his jawbone. “You just need to remember that you are the only man in my life.” Blaine relaxed. “And trust me, those other actors have nothing on you. They never sync up to my rhythms like you do,” Kurt finished with a smile and pressed his forehead against Blaine’s. Kurt could feel more than see Blaine smiling back.

“I love you so much,” Blaine breathed against Kurt’s lips.

“I love you too,” Kurt breathed back. He kissed Blaine and gently laid him down. From above, Kurt deepened their kisses slowly until they were at the pace Blaine originally started with.

“Hang on,” Blaine said with a raspy voice. He flipped them so he was on top and started alternating between kissing and nipping Kurt’s neck. Blaine felt the vibrations from Kurt’s laugh-turned-moan.

“What do you think you’re doing, mister,” Kurt said, arching his head further back.

“Coping with jealousy,” Blaine answered between successful attempts at marking Kurt.

Kurt sighed with a smile, “You’re lucky that having hickeys is completely in-character for me.”

“I’m so lucky.”


End file.
